Black, White, and Red All Over
by Battle Fries
Summary: When Willow picks up on Voldemort's resurrection, the Council moves to aid Harry Potter in his struggle against the Dark Lord. Post-Chosen, Post-Goblet of Fire. Posted on TTH under user name LegacyWeapon.
1. Privet Drive

**Chapter One: Privet Drive**

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><p>Harry was miserable. Totally, utterly, completely miserable. Nothing new, mind you, but still distinctly not un-miserable. Watching the man who killed one's parents come back from not-quite death and then try to kill you tended to have a negative impact on a person. Particularly when someone ended up dead because of it.<p>

Thoughts of Cedric immediately made Harry feel incredibly guilty. His mother had given her life to protect him, and that was a sacrifice that he could understand. But Cedric was just _there_. He was guilty of nothing more than being a good sport and insisting that Harry take what, in his eyes, was rightfully his.

Really, Harry thought, Cedric had been an ideal Hufflepuff. He worked hard, he played fair, and he respected people for who they were. _And to think, I once dreaded being sorted into Hufflepuff. Thought they were too soft._ But really, Hufflepuff house got too little credit, it seemed. No wonder they'd been miffed when Harry's name had come out of that cup.

Speaking of cups, Harry realized that his aunt and uncle were due to rise soon, so it would be best to get started on breakfast and some morning tea. Dudley had been finding coffee to be an interesting experience, and to Harry's misfortune, it made him more energetic for a certain time. Hopefully he would start to drink too much and crash later in the day. At least, that's what he thought happened to people who drank too much of the stuff. One could only hope.

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><p>By ten o'clock, Dudley was too busy watching the television to notice Harry, Uncle Vernon was grumbling about incompetency in the government, and Aunt Petunia was trying to get a word in edgewise about how Mrs. Next-Door was using the garden hose too much, given the limit on hosepipes due to the summer heat. Never mind that the Dursleys were the worst offenders of breaking the ban.<p>

Harry, on the other hand, between making sure his 'family' was well-fed and ignoring him, couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Voldemort had returned, which was sort of a big deal. Why wasn't it all over the Daily Prophet? And why were there no random killings of Muggles?

A knock came from the front door.

"Bloody hell," Vernon cursed. "Who comes calling at this hour on a Sunday?" he groused as he reluctantly got to his feet to answer the door. "You expecting company, Dudders?"

"I told you, not until later, and I'm going _out_ to tea with Piers," Dudley whined.

Petunia preened. "My little Duddykins is becoming _such_ the young gentleman."

Harry had to resist snorting into his water – tea couldn't be wasted on him – at the notion of Dudley doing anything other than smoking drugs and beating up kids with his little gang.

Uncle Vernon returned shortly with a young woman in tow, the sight of which made Harry's breath catch in his throat. Her red hair and vivid green eyes and kind face put Harry in mind of old pictures of his mom. Aunt Petunia didn't look like she'd ever seen the woman before, though, so she probably wasn't a relative. Maybe a Weasley? Could be with the hair.

"Everyone," Uncle Vernon announced with a strange glee that made Harry despair, "this is Miss Rosenberg from Child Welfare. Apparently, she's wants to talk to us about some _complaints_ about you, boy."

"Thank you, Mr. Dursley, for inviting me in. I'll take things from here," the woman said. _Strange, she sounds American,_ Harry thought._ Stranger things have happened, though. Much stranger._

"Please, have a seat," Vernon said, pulling out a chair for her.

"Thank you. I hope this won't take long," she said coolly. Harry definitely did _not _like the way this was heading. Dudley's gang had put fear of Harry into the hearts of children around the town, and his Aunt and Uncle weren't exactly known for telling the truth.

"Please sit down, Harry," she said. "Unless you want to stand, that is. Whatever makes you more comfortable. No reason to talk with you being all uncomfortable-like and such."

Harry blinked for a moment at the woman's strange choice of words, but he hesitantly pulled up a chair. The table usually wasn't for him, but he doubted that Uncle Vernon would deny a government worker. "Thanks," he said.

The redhead smiled curiously. "For what?"

"Uh, inviting me to sit down, I guess?" he said a bit stupidly.

"You don't typically take meals with your family, then?" she asked pointedly.

"Uh, no. I tend to do the cooking, mostly," he said, telling the truth as best he could without earning a beating from Uncle Vernon later.

"So, you do the cooking, but not much eating. I can't help but notice you're looking a bit thin. You getting enough to eat, Harry?"

"He gets plenty," Aunt Petunia said in a simpering voice. "Far more than he deserves, really, what with his… his issues."

"Which is apparently far less than your son deserves. That is you, right?" the well-dressed woman asked Dudley.

Harry had to hide a chuckle as Dudley found himself caught in the gaze of a woman who, Harry realized, his cousin had been staring at. Dudley just nodded once.

"Right. So, your son gets very well fed. He looks like he's got a fair amount of fat and muscle on him. A healthy amount, I mean. I'm just not sure I see how Harry here can be so threatening if he's kept starving," Miss Rosenberg said coldly, her gaze shifting from Uncle Vernon to Aunt Petunia and back again.

Harry couldn't help but smile as his aunt and uncle squirmed. So the 'complaints' about him had been about his welfare, not about him being the menace the Dursleys would have the neighbors all believe he was.

"You don't understand," Petunia said with a bit of panic. "It's for his own good."

"Really? Harry, please come with me."

"Uh, yes ma'am," he said politely, rising to follow her.

The redhead moved around the house, through the living room, stopping to peruse the photos on the mantle, none of which featured Harry at all. He followed her into the hallway, where she was about to head up the stairs, but she stopped at the foot of the staircase.

She walked very slowly through the hall, back towards the kitchen, and then she stopped. Her hand reached out towards the handle, and she opened the cupboard under the stairs and looked inside where all of his school supplies were now kept.

The woman seemed to be transfixed with the cupboard, and Harry wondered if maybe she wasn't a witch. But did the American Ministry have jurisdiction here? Or was she working with his own Ministry? If she was, then Harry was even less sure of how to treat her. Fudge had been rather vehement about denying Voldemort's return last year as he lay in the hospital wing. Was this Rosenberg woman one of his cronies?

The look of sympathy on her face said the exact opposite. "What happened here, Harry?" she asked sadly, her voice almost cracking.

Harry sighed. His aunt and uncle would kill him, but maybe this was for the best. "I used to live down here, in that cupboard. And you're right, I don't get fed enough. I do the chores, I keep out of sight. I'm supposed to be a non-entity. I go to boarding school, but my aunt and uncle say I go to a place for dangerous criminal youths. And Dudley is… Well, we used to play a lot, if you can call it that. He would try to hit me, I would run, and he would chase me," he said quietly, trying to keep his voice down so that his only family didn't hear.

Casting his eyes downward, Harry knew he would be in for it now. Child Services might get back to him eventually, but by then he'd be knocked senseless.

"Fools. The idiots should be protecting you, nurturing you, and you get this?" she snarled.

Harry looked up, surprised by the cold fury of her words. But he almost fell back when he saw that her eyes had turned completely black.

She turned now and strode into the kitchen with a purpose that she had been lacking earlier. "I get it now. I totally do. You people don't like magic much, do you? I suppose you think it's a mercy that you didn't burn him at a stake. Been there, done that, didn't like it much. I know a thing or two about crappy guardians, and I can tell that you're not fit to care for someone as special as Harry."

Was it just his eyes, or was Rosenberg's hair darkening as well? He couldn't hear or see the Dursleys, but he could just imagine their terror. It made him smile.

"You no longer have any custody over Harry Potter. He's being remanded into the care of people who will care for him and prepare him. He may not have told you yet, but do you remember how your sister died, Petunia Evans-Dursley? Do you remember who killed her? Well, he's back, and he's gunning for Harry. And since I don't see anyone here giving a damn about him, I guess I'll have to do."

She turned around to look at Harry, and her eyes were green once again. "That is, if you want to, Harry? Do you want to stay here, with your aunt and uncle and cousin, or do you want to come with me and learn how to defend yourself from all the nasty things out there that go bump in the night?"

_Hm, how do I choose? Do I stay here, where I know nothing and can do nothing? Or do I leave with a stranger who claims to want to train me to defend myself?_ "Who are you?" he asked aloud.

She smiled a bit strangely. "Sorry. I guess I was too busy convincing that bunch over there to believe me that I neglected the introductions a bit. I'm Willow Rosenberg, and as you might have guessed, I'm a witch. You might also have guessed that I'm American. You would guess correctly. I haven't had any dealings with any Ministry of any sort, and I am almost completely self-taught. I work alongside others, mostly non-magical people, who are aligned against the dark forces that tend to lurk just out of sight until that moment where they sneak up behind you and you're gone. We have a few witches with us, and a warlock or two.

"As for why I'm here, I picked up on some serious bad mojo happening on this side of the Atlantic last June. I did some digging, and I found out about you and Voldemort. Doesn't take a genius to see that your people are doing a shit job of handing the situation, but we've gone up against worse before."

Harry wasn't sure he believed her. "Worse than Voldemort, really? I'm sorry, but if you don't work with wizards much, then how do you…"

"You ever hear of Sunnydale, Harry?"

The name was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. It had been in the news a few years ago, back when he didn't quite follow the papers, but he'd heard some of the older students talking about it. "Heard the name, don't know much about it. Something collapsed, I think?"

"That would be Sunnydale. The entire town devoured. It's just a massive, town-sized crater now. I've spent pretty much my whole life since I was, well, since I was your age fighting vampires and other assorted demons, averting apocalypses, that sort of thing. I also know how powerful dark magic is, and how tempting it can be. More importantly, I know how to resist that temptation now.

"And," she said softly, pausing as her face took on a sad look, "I know what it's like to lose the person you love more than anyone else in the world."

Harry didn't have any veritaserum on him, but he didn't think anyone could fake this kind of thing. And her arms were bare, and she had no mark on either of them.

Uncle Vernon broke the silence. "So, let me get this straight. "You want to take the boy away from here? Forever?"

Willow didn't turn to face him, but she did sigh. "That about sums it up, yeah."

"Well, go on then! Both of you, get out of my house and don't come back!"

The redhead looked once more at Harry. "So, what do you say? You've been fighting skirmishes against dark forces for four years. We've been waging war for about ten years. Wanna come and see?" she said with a knowing smile.

Harry knew what his answer would be, except for one thing. "I have friends, and a godfather, and they-"

"-will be more than welcome to join us, should they so desire. And yes, you'll go back to Hogwarts once the term starts. Assuming you want to, that is. So, you game, Harry?"

"Hell yes!" he shouted eagerly. "Er, sorry about that. Didn't mean to swear."

Willow laughed a musical sound. "Oh, you're in for a shock if you think _that's _crude. Now get your stuff, and we'll get you to Slayer Central."


	2. Welcome to Yet Another Hellmouth

**Chapter Two: Welcome to Yet Another Hellmouth**

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><p>It took a while, but Harry managed to drag all of his things out of the house and out to Willow's car, which was really a black van with no windows except in the front, and those were dark. It was enough to make him a bit suspicious.<p>

"Wondering about the creepy van that you're about to get into with a stranger?" the strange woman asked lightly.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "Uh, yeah. No offense, but-"

"No, I totally get it. Let's just say that our group doesn't like red tape and bureaucratic BS. We see something nasty, we take care of it quick, and we try not to be noticed. We're like the MI6 of the world we live in."

"Does that make you Agent 007, then?"

Willow laughed at that. "Oh, no. No no no. Believe it or not, I'm actually one of the support crew. Our group used to be a lot smaller, only a handful of us, until just before Sunnydale collapsed. After that, we got a bit bigger and more organized," she said as she helped him get his stuff into the back of the van. "Ugh, I wish Buffy were here. Your stuff is _heavy_!"

Harry didn't know who or what 'Buffy' was, but it sounded like a gigantic wrestler of some sort. Seemed like the sort of person who would go up against demons without magic. "I suppose it is. Can Hedwig fly alongside us?"

"Hedwig? Oh! Your owl, right! No, she should stay in the van with us. Keep her up front with you, Harry."

_Well that's disappointing. _"Um, is there a reason why-"

"Yes, there is. But first, can I meet her? I've never met a wizarding owl before. I've heard they're really amazing!"

Harry smiled fondly. "Yeah, she is." He held up her cage. "Hedwig, meet Willow. Willow, this is Hedwig."

Willow smiled as she held out a finger in between the bars of the cage. "Hey, girl. Don't worry, I don't bite. It's good to meet you."

Hedwig regarded Willow for a moment before giving a dignified sort of hoot and pecking her finger gently with her beak.

"I think she likes you," Harry said.

"Well, that's good. I'd hate to get off to a bad start." She closed the back of the trunk. "All right, then. You two, into the passenger seat. I'll drive."

Puzzled, Harry got into the van and closed the door. "Just so we're clear," he asked, "we're driving to the United States."

"Kinda-sorta. Just wait."

They drove downtown rather silently and uneventfully and pulled into an underground car park. The trip took about twenty minutes. "Is this it?" Harry asked.

"Not yet," Willow said. "I need you to be silent for just a bit, Harry. I gotta focus, okay?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, okay."

She smiled back. "Thanks." Willow closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. If Harry didn't know any better, he might have thought she was entering a trance of some kind. But then she began to chant.

"God of travels, merciful Hermes,  
>Guide us through most treacherous boundaries,<br>Deliver us from this island shore,  
>Shield us from the ocean's roar,<br>Take us within this metal shell,  
>Take us to the Mouth of Hell."<p>

Harry didn't even have time to process Willow's words before he had to throw up his hands to shield his eyes from a flash of light that suddenly appeared out of all the windows of the van. Hedwig started to make a fuss in her cage, but the light subsided as quickly as it had come.

"And, here we are," Willow announced proudly.

Removing his hands from his face, Harry looked around to find himself in an entirely different car park, one filled with similar black vans and a bunch of expensive-looking equipment adorning the walls.

"Where are we? Doesn't look too much like the mouth of Hell."

"Oh, there's more than one. We were based in Cleveland, but for some reason the power of that Hellmouth waned while this one waxed. We're in Washington DC now, which is here," Willow said. "Now, then, let's get you upstairs, and we'll move your stuff up a bit later, okay?"

Harry was out of his element, so he figured it would be best to follow Willow's advice. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

"All righty, then. Just so you know, we tend not to use much magic around here unless it's really necessary. I get that you all tend to use magic for pretty much everything, which is honestly kind of creepy, but since you grew up all non-magical and such, I don't think you'll have too hard a time," the redhead said cheerfully as she pushed a button to call a lift.

While they waited, Harry pondered her words. "What did you mean by that?"

"Huh? Mean by what?"

"That using magic for everything was creepy. I mean, that's how our world works."

Willow sighed dramatically. Was this a sore issue with her? "You use your wand for pretty much all your magic, right?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"Well, what happens if it gets taken away or broken and you can't afford a new one? What do you do then?"

Harry just blinked. It was amazing, when he thought about it, that Ron had gotten through their second year when his wand had broken. That probably had to do with Dumbledore cancelling all of their exams, most likely. "Well, I would just live a Muggle life, or do something in the Wizarding world that didn't need a wand. But for purebloods who don't know how to live like Muggles, I guess they'd be totally lost." Memories of Molly Weasley doing everything at once in the kitchen with magic came to mind, and he doubted she'd be able to manage all of that without magic.

Willow nodded. "And that's not even taking into account the psychological factor. You grow used to something powerful like magic, it starts to affect you in ways you don't realize until it's too late."

The lift arrived, and Harry and Willow got in. Willow pressed a button labeled G. "You see, Harry," she said as the lift began to move, "magic is power. They say that power corrupts, and they're not wrong. You can use power for good ends, sure, but when you grow dependent on that power, it eats at you. You lose your perspective, and before you know it, you forget what it's like to live in a world where that power doesn't exist."

Harry was shocked by her description of magic. "You make it sound like a drug," he said not entirely politely.

"Drugs have their uses, but all things in moderation, right? Our bodies are the product of thousands of years of evolution. We are the way we are because this is the form nature gave us with the best chance of survival. It's the same with electricity for us. We lose it, and a lot of our stuff stops functioning. _We_ stop functioning. Could your aunt and uncle and cousin live in a world without electricity? And could you live in a world without magic?"

Harry had to concede her point there. He reflected on Arthur Weasley's fascination with Muggles, obtaining all of their advances without magic, and it suddenly occurred to him why Mr. Weasley was so impressed. Magic made everything easy, but for wizards, easy was normal. To put a wizard into a world where the easy that was normal didn't exist, everything must seem like a stroke of genius design and hard work. _It really is, I guess. Nobody questions how anything works, so long as it works._

"I have two friends who are inventors," he told Willow. "They use magic, but they experiment. They try, fail, and start over. They get into the way things work, and they're geniuses. They joke around a lot, and they use their smarts for pranks, mostly, but they _invent_ things! I guess I never realized how cool that was until now."

Willow beamed. "I know, right? I always envied great inventors and engineers. I can take advantage of tools that other people make, but to make things that everyone can and will use, that's just – wow!"

The lift chimed, and the doors opened. Harry stepped out into what was _not_ an office building, as he had assumed, but looked more like the sitting room of a large, if rather Spartan, mansion. There were a few people gathered there already, and they appeared to be expecting him. There were two women about Willow's age, another younger woman who might still be a teenager, a well-muscled young man sporting an eye-patch, and a middle-aged man with spectacles who had an air of dignity about him.

"Everyone, this is Harry Potter," Willow announced. "Harry, this is everyone."

"Thanks for the help," Harry said with a smile. At least Willow had a sense of humor he could get behind.

"Oh, come on, Willow!" the youngest girl said. "This is _not_ everyone! This is just us. And besides, even if it is just us, it isn't everyone without Spike."

"Shut up, Dawn," a short blonde woman said petulantly. "So, you're Harry, eh? Nice to meet ya! I'm Buffy, and this little loudmouth here is my sister, Dawn."

_That's Buffy?_ Harry had been expecting a very large man, not a petite young woman. Still, it wasn't as if Wizards had what he would call normal names, either. "Uh, good to meet you, too."

"Still a bit in shock?" the man with the eye-patch asked kindly.

"A bit, yeah. I just got taken away from my abusive aunt and uncle, but I'm not staying with people I know this time. So, give me a bit, okay?"

"Whoa, hold the phone!" the older brunette woman said. Now that Harry looked, she seemed to be dressed for maximum sex appeal, and Harry's adolescent male hormones took notice. "You went face to face with an abusive aunt and uncle, Red? Shit! What did you do to them?"

"Faith!" Willow cried out indignantly. "I am past that, okay? Yes, I got a bit mad, but nobody got hurt. No hurting of any kind. Not while I was there. Scaring of the mean people, yes. But no hurting. Besides, they can tell if you use magic over there, and I didn't want the wizard police snooping in."

"Wait a minute," Harry said. "The law only applies to underage wizards, and I think you're older than seventeen."

"I'm afraid that wouldn't have mattered, Harry," the older man said, and Harry was surprised to hear a British accent. "Your Ministry detects magic, but not necessarily who uses it. They would have known that magic was used at your residence, and given you are the only wizard who lives there, they would have assumed it was you."

Harry grimaced. "Just like Dobby," he muttered. That still rankled him, that they had censured him over that.

"Not sure what a Dobby is," the one-eyed man said, "but it sounds like a story to me. I'm Xander by the way, and your countryman over there is Rupert Giles, but everyone just calls him Giles. Or Ripper, on a bad day."

"Xander, please," Giles said, removing his spectacles and rubbing them with his shirt. "So, Harry, this is the core of our group, though we're a much larger organization. We have only limited knowledge of your world. Just enough to get a basic understanding of certain issues, and to understand that a very evil dark wizard has emerged intent on killing all non-magical humans, and that a corrupt and stupid government is denying that there is any trouble at all to pretend that everything is happy and normal."

"Like I said earlier, Harry," Willow said, "I picked up on Voldemort's ritual, which involved some nasty blood magic. That kind of stuff is bad news, even when used with good intentions. And I don't know how or why, but I was getting all sorts of nasty blood magic vibes from your aunt and uncle's house, especially under the stairs."

Harry was puzzled by the last. "I don't know about that. I mean, yeah, Voldemort used my blood to revive himself along with his dad's bone and his servant's hand. But I can't remember anything like that being used anywhere near Privet Drive."

Dawn shuddered. "Flesh, blood, and bone. I've read about that, and that's nasty stuff. Whoever this Moldy guy is, he's bad news. Like Big Bad bad news."

"So, what's the big problem?" Buffy asked. "If he's really murdered all these people in the past, and he's going to again, then we just find him and kill him. Even if he is human, that sounds kinda soulless to me. Which of those two is going to be harder, Harry? The finding or the killing?"

"Uh, you want my advice?"

"Well, yeah!" the woman called Faith said. "You're the guy's number one enemy, and you know the turf better than we do. Be kinda stupid to turn down help from the best source, wouldn't it?"

Harry smiled. "If only we had people as smart as you running our country," he said sadly.

"Aw, that's sweet, kid. Flattery can get you places, you know," she said with a teasing wink.

"Faith! Down!" Buffy said loudly. "No corrupting of the impressionable young male wizard, okay? So, Harry. How do we find Moldy, and how do we kill him?"

Harry shook himself clear of the haze created by Faith's sex appeal. "Well, he's very good at hiding. No one's been able to track him down for decades. And as for killing him, people say it can't be done. Do you know why he's so hell bent on killing me? Well, wrong question. I don't even know that one. But do you know why he used my blood instead of anyone else's for that ritual?"

"I do believe we have some idea, Harry," Giles said, "but perhaps it would be best if you were to tell us your version of the story. It would probably be more accurate than anything we think we know."

Harry liked these people. They knew the right questions to ask, and they weren't treating him like a child. "Well, he was killing anyone who stood up to him, and my parents did that. He killed my dad, then my mum, and then he tried to kill me. But it didn't work, and his curse rebounded on him. It should have killed him, but he just became spectral for the next thirteen years. 'Less than the meanest ghost,' he said he was."

"Whoa!" Xander's exclamation was a fairly accurate summation, in Harry's opinion. "So, why didn't the evil mojo work on you?"

Harry didn't want to talk about this, but he supposed he had to. "Well, my mum died protecting me. Pleading with Voldemort to spare me. But even though he killed her, her sacrifice gave me a sort of protection. I don't really understand it, save that it was really strong. Voldemort said it was ancient magic." Harry remembered something else. "He said he'd forgotten it, or that he should have remembered it. Something about that spell was something he didn't anticipate!"

"And therein lies a potential weakness!" Willow exclaimed happily. "You're a sharp one, Harry. You'll go far. So, your mom died to protect you, imbued you with her own essence as protection, and then… Oh."

Buffy sat up straight. "'Oh?' I don't like that kind of 'oh,' Will. What's going on? Make with the 'splaining, please?"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? Harry's mom gave her life to protect him. That's power of the most awesome kind there is, and not at all of the dark and evil. But someone took it an extra step and tainted it. They took Harry to his Aunt and Uncle, who I think are related to his mom. A blood bond would be a shield of some sort, but it would be very vague and unpredictable, with a lot of potential to backfire and cause all sorts of nastiness. Harry, how did you come to live with those stupid people?"

Harry groaned and put his hand to his head. "Dumbledore. At least, I think it was him."

Giles cleared his throat. "Dumbledore is the headmaster of your school, Harry, am I right? And he's a powerful wizard who even Voldemort feared?"

"Yeah, that's right. He's like a chess grand master, and I guess I'm one of his pieces. In our first year, he brought a powerful artifact into the school that he knew Voldemort was after, and while it was never direct, I think he sort of wanted my friends and me to go in and face all the traps and take on Voldemort."

"What?" Buffy exclaimed. "How old were you? Were you even ten?"

"Eleven, actually, but all the same, I had barely any training, and our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher taught us nothing, not to mention he was hiding Voldemort under his turban."

"And how did Professor Bumblebee not notice this, exactly?" Dawn asked.

"I don't know," Harry said honestly. "Second year wasn't much better. Students were being attacked by an unseen force. Dumbledore knew what was going on, but he didn't know how. There was no investigation that I could tell, and he never told us what was attacking the students. I ended up having to face the basilisk alone."

"Dear Lord!" Giles said, starting to his feet. "You took on a basilisk, a full grown one, and lived to tell the tale?"

Harry felt a bit embarrassed now. "Yeah, I guess I did. It sounds a lot cooler when you say it like that than it really was. It was really a lot of running and madness."

Buffy laughed. "We totally get running and madness, Harry. And you started all of this at a younger age than we did. I don't envy you at all."

Something about the way Buffy spoke told Harry that she did know exactly what he was going through. "Third year wasn't much better. There was a deranged criminal on the loose, or so we thought, and we thought he was after me. They set guards around the school to protect the students, since he was guilty of murdering thirteen people at once."

"Makes sense, I guess," Faith said quietly. "Where'd they get the guards from?"

Harry shuddered. "Azkaban. And the guards were evil. I almost lost my soul to them." At the puzzled looks, he added, "Dementors."

"Whoa! Hold on there, Harry!" Willow said. "I've read about Dementors, and they are like seriously evil. Like as evil as evil gets." She turned to the others. "They make you relive your worst nightmares and they suck out your soul if they can. It's how they feed. But I don't get why there are any. Everything I read said that they were extinct centuries ago."

Harry snorted. "Well, some obviously survived, and now they work for the Ministry, guarding the prison, Azkaban. Voldemort seems to think they'll join him, and I don't doubt it. And they're in charge of guarding all of his followers that were rounded up after the first war."

A collection of yelling and howling erupted after this statement. Everyone seemed outraged, and Harry was glad to see that not everyone was as stupid as the Ministry seemed to be.

"Enough!" Giles cried at last, and everyone fell silent. "It seems we have our work cut out for us. More stories can wait. Let's get you settled in, Harry, and you can start to get adjusted to the time difference. It's rather early in the morning here. I'm going to go through the surviving Council archives and see if there's any record of interaction between them and the Ministry. There's enough overlap to make such a thing likely.

"I'll help," Willow said immediately.

"No, Willow," Giles said gently, "I can do this on my own. You are our most skilled witch, and we need you to familiarize yourself with the workings of this other world. Talk to your uncle and introduce him to Harry. From what you've told me, they should get along nicely."

Willow nodded. "All right. I'll call him in a few hours. Don't wanna wake him up. He gets grouchy early in the AM. Buffy, Faith, can you head down and pick up Harry's stuff? I'd do it, but it's like super heavy."

"Is this all we are to you, Willow?" Buffy pouted. "After all we've been through, are we really just pack mules to you?"

"No, not just any pack mules. You're super special friend-shaped pack mules who I care for very much!" the witch said brightly.

"Ain't no big, Red," Faith said. "Come on, B. May as well work the muscles to start the day, right?"

"Sure thing, Faith. Dawn, you help Giles. Xander, help Willow get Harry settled in?"

"On it, Buffster."

Harry watched as everyone went about their tasks and chatted so fondly. "You're family, aren't you? More than blood, I mean?" he asked Willow.

"Yeah, that we are. Oh! You want to send some letters to your friends and your godfather? Let them know you're okay?"

"Oh! Right! I'll get on that right now," Harry said. "Just as soon as I get some parchment and ink out of my case."

"Hey, Harry," Xander said, "No offense intended towards the noble deeds of parchment, but would paper and pen be okay? We also have a printer and a computer, if you wish to avail yourself of the simple things we native-folk have to offer."

Harry laughed out loud at that. "Thanks, but parchment is more sturdy, to be honest. There's a reason we use it."

"Well," Willow said, "now that we've got that straightened out, let's find you a room."

* * *

><p>Arabella Doreen Figg was quite nervous. She was on Harry Duty, watching the house as the strange woman got herself invited in, only to emerge with Harry and take off in a shady-looking vehicle. She had followed the van downtown, and into the car park, but when she'd finally gotten out of her car and found the right glasses, the van was gone. <em>Harry<em> was gone! She had to get an owl to Dumbledore straight away. Who knew the trouble young Harry was in?


	3. Uncle Lance

**Chapter Three: Uncle Lance**

* * *

><p>Harry followed Willow and Xander up a set of stairs until they came to a long hallway with many doors on both sides. But they didn't stop there, and went up another flight of stairs until they came to a similar hallway. Harry was getting a bit tired from still carrying Hedwig around in her cage, but he kept silent until he reached the top of the third flight of stairs and found another hallway full of doors.<p>

"Um, not to be rude, but where exactly are we, and what are all of those rooms we kept passing?"

"Shh! Voice down, Harry!" Xander hissed. "Behind each of those doors are some of the most vicious creatures ever to walk this earth."

Harry's heart went cold. Had he made a really stupid move in coming here? "Dare I ask what kind of creatures?"

"The absolute worst," Xander said seriously as they went up some more stairs. "Teenage girls."

Harry bit back a laugh, but then he became suddenly very self-conscious. "So, those are dormitories? Am I staying at a boarding school? For girls?"

"You could say that," Willow said with a smirk. "Only don't get them angry. These aren't just girls. They're Slayers. They ever cover Slayers in your lessons, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "They might have, but we've had less than stellar DADA professors. That's Defense Against the Dark Arts, just abbreviated. None of them has lasted for longer than a year. They say the job's cursed."

"Really? That could be worth investigating," Willow said as they started up yet another flight of stairs.

By now, Harry was really beginning to feel the strain in his muscles. "Hang on a second. Didn't we take a lift earlier? Why aren't we using that now?"

Xander chuckled. "Thank you, Harry. Dawn owes me ten bucks now."

Harry knew that laugh. It was the same sort of laugh that came too often from Fred and George when they had successfully escaped the wrath of the faculty with some mischief. "What was the bet?" he asked, playing along.

"That you'd cave in about the stairs before three flights were done with. Truth be told, we were testing you just a bit. Seeing how much physical strain you can take without actually putting you into combat. No grades or anything, just trying to get an idea of how long you can last," Xander explained. "We want to prepare you to defend yourself, and a lot of that is physical labor. I have to say, I'm impressed."

Harry felt a sting of indignation followed by a touch of admiration. It was the kind of subtle test that Moody might have put him through. Even if he had turned out to be a psychotic impostor. "Well, it'd be a lot easier if I'd had breakfast."

Willow let out a small squeak. "Oh, my Gods! I'm so sorry, Harry! And I picked you up and everything and saw that you don't get fed properly and…" She gently undid the door to Hedwig's cage. "You can come out now, if you like. Just be careful of the other girls. They're stronger than they look, okay?"

Hedwig gave an indignant hoot before flying out of her cage and perching on Harry's shoulder.

"Right." Willow took the now empty cage and thrust it into Xander's arms. "Take that to Harry's room while I get him some breakfast. And we'll take the elevator on the way down and back up here when we're done, okay?"

Harry let out a breath of relief. "Thanks. And an elevator is American for a lift, right?"

"Yup! Let's go and get you some breakfast. But be warned, some of the Slayers are early risers, and they're not used to seeing boys around here. You know how to handle aggressive teenage girls?"

"Er…"

"I'm guessing that's a 'no,' Will. Better keep an eye on him," Xander warned. "Especially if some of the younger ones want to introduce themselves. They don't know their own strength sometimes."

"Right. This way, Harry. Don't worry, this'll be a lot shorter than the way up."

Harry followed behind. He had not felt quite this lost since he'd first been taken to Diagon Alley back before his first year. They went halfway down one of the hallways, which was about five times the length of his own dormitory in Hogwarts, when they came to the lift.

Once again, Willow pressed the G button, and this time they headed down once the doors closed.

"So, why should I be so scared of these girls, Willow?" Harry felt a bit weird being on first name basis with a woman at least ten years his senior who he'd just met. Not to mention an attractive one.

"They're not just girls, is the thing to remember. Well, they are, in that they mostly act like normal girls. A lot of them are obsessed with fashion, and boys, you know. Teenage stuff. But on top of that they have a calling to fight demons and other assorted baddies. With this calling comes some benefits. Heightened strength, speed, agility, faster healing, and a few other goodies as well. Buffy and Faith are both Slayers. They're the two senior Slayers, really, and they can carry your stuff one-handed without breaking a sweat or losing their balance. With me so far?"

Harry really wasn't, but then the door chimed and opened to reveal both Faith and Buffy. The blonde Slayer carried a stack of heavy books, and just as Willow hinted, Faith held his trunk in one hand. "Uh, thanks," he said sheepishly.

"Don't mention it, kiddo," Buffy said brightly.

"Buffy!" Dawn whined from just out of sight. "He's not a kid!"

"He's also not you, Dawn!" the elder sister shot back. "Sorry about that."

Harry didn't want to say anything at this particular moment, but he was inclined to agree with Dawn. "No problem. Mind if we get through."

"Oh! Yeah, sorry!" Buffy said as she moved out of the way to let him and Willow pass.

"Catch ya later, stud," Faith said as the door closed behind him. He heard just enough to know that Buffy was scolding Faith about flirting with him. Harry would have preferred that Buffy take it easier on Faith, but he couldn't say why.

Dawn came up to him from around a corner. "Sorry about Buffy treating you like a kid. She probably just meant it affectionately, but still…"

"You know, Dawn," Willow said sagely, "you've more than proven yourself to us by now. Buffy doesn't see you as-"

"She'll _always _see me as her kid sister! You might not, but she's my blood." Dawn turned to Harry. "I was always treated as the kid that got underfoot. I know what it's like, and it sucks."

Harry smiled warmly. Dawn, at least, seemed to understand him. "I think it's more that I'm younger than all of you than anything else. But you're right. After all I've seen and done… Well, you all listened to me and took me seriously earlier, so thanks for that."

"Don't mention it. You want some breakfast? We have a waffle iron!"

Willow chuckled. "Dawn's been begging us for one since we moved here. But I could go for some waffles all the same. What do you say, Harry?"

As if in response to the question, Harry's stomach churned audibly. "I think that waffles would be great."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes and four enormous waffles later, Harry was feeling quite satisfied. The food was nowhere near Hogwarts-level quality, but for a simple Muggle kitchen, it was quite nice. The kitchen was quite a bit larger than most, he suspected, and there was an absolutely huge dining room just adjacent to it. There was what looked like a school cafeteria line where some girls were lining up for breakfast, while some other girls were handing out the food. Lots of food.<p>

"So, Willow," Harry began, "I heard Mr. Giles say that you had an uncle who you wanted me to meet. Who is he?"

Willow looked up from her scrambled eggs and smiled. "He's a good man. Not a blood relative of mine, actually. He's my dad's brother-in-law. He also happens to have an intimate knowledge of your world, and it's thanks to him that I know so much about you and your friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

Harry felt himself tense up. "How much do you know?"

Willow shrugged. "Probably not enough. Mostly just what the papers report, and what gossip he picks up. His name is Lance Prewett, and he's what your kind refer to as a Squib. No magic, but a hell of an accountant."

A memory from his first meeting with Ron played out in Harry's mind. "So you _are_ related to the Weasleys! I knew it!"

"Really?" Willow asked, seeming suddenly very interested. "How'd you figure it out?"

"Well, all the Weasleys have bright red hair, and so do you. Only, wait. Not a blood relative. Uh, never mind then. Just coincidence, I guess."

The expected rebuke never came, and Willow simply smiled and raised her glass of orange juice. "Well, here's to unexpected coincidences. May they keep us on our toes."

Harry raised his cup of tea and clinked it against her glass. "Constant vigilance," he toasted in return.

They both sipped their drinks and finished their breakfasts in relative silence. "Well then," Willow said, standing up, "Before you write to your friends, I want to ask a favor of you. There's a lot about your world we don't know, and a lot about Voldemort in particular. You know more about him than just about anyone, so I'd like you to take this."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a plastic tablet with a screen on it. "This is an iPad that's been enchanted to store memories. I'd like you to just take a hold of it on either side and think about anything you think would be useful for us to know. You can filter out anything you don't want us to see, and you can take something back if you let slip something by accident. This is just a time-saver so we don't spend hours and hours recounting what sounds like an eventful four years. And feel free to examine it before you give it back. It'll show things in video format, and you can cycle through it with your mind."

She handed the tablet to Harry, who regarded it like a Muggle sort of Pensieve. He didn't really know what he was doing, and for all he knew, this could be a trap for him of some kind. He didn't take it. "I'm sorry, it's just that after what I've seen, being suddenly shown a magical artifact that I only have your word for is a bit, well…"

"Harry!" Willow asked, sounding scandalized. "Are you saying you don't trust us yet?"

The laugh that escaped him was something he wished he could take back. "You haven't tried to kill me yet, but there's other ways to hurt me. You're unknown, and trusting the unknown is a dangerous thing. So, I guess I don't trust you yet. I want to, but I don't. Not yet," he said as boldly as he could.

To his surprise, Willow not only smiled, but she ruffled his already untidy hair. "I knew you were a sharp one! Your toast of 'constant vigilance' is dead on. Eyes and ears open at all times. There's more nasty stuff out there than you know, but there's also more good stuff out there. But it's often hard to tell the two apart. Good and evil aren't the black and white absolutes that we'd like. Everything is a shade of grey. So, before you go inviting your friends to a place you don't know too much about yet, why don't I take you to meet my Uncle Lance. From what I gather, you're rather fond of the Weasleys, and with good reason. Maybe seeing one of them will put you at ease?"

Harry found himself smiling despite himself. Willow and her friends were constantly surprising him. Despite being younger than pretty much every authority figure in his world, they spoke with confidence and purpose. More importantly, they seemed to know what they were doing. They didn't expect him to trust them right away, and they understood that they had to earn it. All of this made him inclined to trust them, but Willow was right that a visit to a Weasley would likely seal the deal.

"When do we leave?" he asked after a bit of thought.

"Whenever you're ready. He lives downtown, and by the time we get there, Aunt Irene will be awake, even if Uncle Lance is sleeping in. If nothing else, I haven't seen them in too long, and they're friendly people. Aunt Irene will probably fuss over you being too thin and try to force feed you a couple of steaks."

"She sounds like Mrs. Weasley. Ron's mum," he clarified.

Willow smiled. "Be sure to tell her that. She'll likely take it as a compliment. Just, not in front of Uncle Lance. It's a bit of a walk, and it's hot outside. You ready to go?"

Harry stood up, though he wondered about Willow's uncle. "Let's do it."

"All right, then! This way, good sir."

Harry grinned at the treatment he was receiving. It was silly, but it felt like he was a regular kid, like all the others he'd grown up with in primary school, but who he could never get along with because of Dudley's intimidation tactics. He wasn't famous Harry Potter here, and he wasn't The Boy Who Lived. He was just a kid, and it felt really good.

Winding through a grand hallway, Willow led him to a rather simple wooden door. "Be warned, Harry. The outside of this house is a bit different from the inside."

Harry nodded. "I've seen my fair share of surprises. I can take it."

"All right, then. Out we go." The door opened to reveal a front yard no bigger than that of the Dursleys, only a bit shadier thanks to the minor canopy that the trees provided.

Harry stepped outside to find himself in the middle of a perfectly ordinary suburban-looking neighborhood. The outside of the house was white with blue window frames, and it was only two stories high. There was a driveway and a garage, but other than that, it reminded him of nothing more than the Weasley's tent that he had stayed at during the Quidditch World Cup. "Not too shabby," he said, more than a little impressed.

"Glad you like it. "We're going this way," she said, turning left and walking down the street. Willow wasn't a tall woman, so Harry was able to keep up with her quite easily. "We have a colleague – I hesitate to call him a friend – who is quite a nerd, and he came up with the idea from a TV show called Doctor Who. He christened the house the TARDIS. Has a weird sci-fi meaning that I can't remember that basically means 'bigger on the inside.'"

Harry laughed. The Dursleys might not have been fond of anything not-normal, but he'd heard a few kids back in primary school talk about Doctor Who. He'd never seen the show, though. "Seems accurate," he said simply.

Willow smirked. "Officially, we're the Watcher's Council, but 'TARDIS' stuck, if only because Faith did some tinkering to the acronym."

Memories of Faith made some butterflies in Harry's stomach flutter as they turned right up a small hill. "Dare I ask what it stands for now?"

Willow pursed her lips, but Harry recognized the telltale signs of trying to keep from giggling. "By decree of Faith Lehane, we are now 'T&A Ripping Demons Into Shreds.' It's scary how accurate that name is. So, that house is the TARDIS Center, you could say. We often call it Slayer Central just to make things sound simpler and less cheesy."

Nodding along, Harry asked, "I get the 'ripping into shreds' bit, but what's the T&A stand for?"

A positively evil smirk greeted him, and Willow stopped long enough to whisper the meaning into his not-yet-fifteen-year old ears. The look on his face prompted a giggle from Willow that reminded him a bit too much of Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. "Girls," he muttered under his breath.

"Oh, you'll learn to love 'em eventually. Well, some people do. Mostly men. I find myself drawn to both genders, personally, which leaves me in the unenviable position of listening to both Buffy i_and_/iXander sharing with me the details about the oh-so-hot guy or girl they saw the other day." Willow sighed. "Good times," she said contentedly.

Silently, Harry wondered what someone like Willow would make of wizards and their unusual choices in clothing. Their walking suddenly took them out of the neighborhood and a busy street came into view. It was crowded, despite it being a Sunday.

"We're going that way," Willow said, motioning towards an escalator heading down underground. "But first, it might not be best to bring an owl too much further into the city. Too much attention and such. What do you say, Hedwig? You feel like hunting for a bit? Plenty of squirrels around here, if you like that sort of thing."

Hedwig looked to Harry and hooted gently before taking off into the air. Harry let out a breath of relief. "Thanks, Willow. Uncle Vernon never lets her get out as often as she'd like."

"Don't mention it. We just need to make sure she gets back to you in time for you to send those letters, assuming you trust us. Though we might want to go to a Wizarding post office that specializes in trans-Atlantic mail. And she'll need to get back into the house. But, one step at a time. Next stop, the subway."

"Subway? You mean like the London Underground?"

"Yeah, but it's called the Metro here. And it's a lot smaller. We're only going a few stops. You probably don't have any US currency, so I'll get you a ticket with enough money on it to get us there and back."

Harry walked with her to a machine that Willow put some bills and coins into. "If you don't mind me asking," he said, "why can't we just apparate there? I mean, you apparate and take me with you, that is."

"Well," Willow said as she pressed a button and took a ticket from a slot, "it would draw unwanted attention, it uses up my energy, and we don't need to. The less you rely on something, the more independent you are."

After passing through a small gate that slid open when Harry put his ticket in, they descended onto a platform with a track on either side. "We're going that way, on this side," Willow said, gesturing to the track on the left going backwards from the way the escalator had brought them there.

A six-car train soon arrived, with no real way to tell the front or back cars from any of the others. There was a door on either end and in the center of each car, and Harry and Willow boarded the fourth car.

"How many stops?" Harry asked.

"Just four. But it's faster than driving, and no traffic."

Ten minutes later, Harry found himself exiting at another station and ascending a positively huge escalator heading up into the light of day.

When they finally got to the top, Harry found himself in the middle of a bustling metropolis.

"Uncle Lance lives this way, just a few blocks down," Willow said, pointing straight ahead.

A short walk later had them in the entrance of an apartment building, and Willow pressed a button to buzz an apartment.

A tired male voice came over the intercom. "Ugh. Who are you and what do you want?"

Willow squealed. "Sorry, Uncle Lance! I didn't mean to wake you! It's me, Willow. I'm here and I brought a guest. We talked a bit about him not that long ago."

"Ugh, all right, Willow. Come on up. But let me have some coffee first. And no, none for you! I learned that lesson the hard way."

The door buzzed, and Willow pulled it open for Harry.

The lobby was nothing fancy, but it was hardly poor by any means. "Can we take the lift this time?" he asked drolly.

"Harry," Willow said with mock surprise, "what a silly question. Of course we'll take the elevator. Why wouldn't we, after all?"

"Maybe to avoid a dependence on electricity and machines?" he countered.

The witch smiled back at him. "Touché, Mr. Potter." The lift arrived and Willow pressed the button for the eighth floor.

They exited upon arriving and found their way to a door labeled 815. Willow knocked twice.

The door was answered by an auburn-haired woman with kind blue eyes. She looked to be about Mrs. Weasley's age. "Ah, Willow! So good to see you, dear!" she said warmly, embracing the witch. "And you must be Harry Potter. I've heard so much about you, but I refuse to believe any of it unless you tell me yourself. Please, do come in! Would either of you like anything to drink? Have you had breakfast yet? You look a bit thin, Harry. Have you been eating enough?"

Willow shrugged apologetically at Harry, who simply smiled. "I've eaten, but thank you. I hope we're not making trouble for you, Mrs. Prewett."

"Bah! None of that formal stuff. You can call me Irene, so long as I can call you Harry."

"Sure thing. Thanks, Irene," Harry said, not entirely comfortable with such familiarity with someone old enough to be his mother.

"Not at all. And here's Lance," she said, gesturing to a red-haired man in a robe and pajamas holding a mug of steaming coffee.

"Hold on just a moment. Stay still. I'll be right there," he said softly as he walked very slowly to a small glass table in a sitting area. He took a seat and sipped his coffee before letting out a relieved sigh. "All right. Now then, you must be Harry Potter. It's an honor to meet you."

"Uh, thanks," Harry said, taking a seat along with Willow. "So, um, you're related to the Weasleys, then?"

Lance snorted. "Technically, yes. Practically, not really. Don't get me wrong, I love my family dearly, and I'm always looking out for them as best I can. But there's not much I can do, not having any magic. I'm something of a black sheep in the family. We don't speak much, but I keep my eyes and ears open, all the same."

Harry was rather shocked by the veiled bitterness in Lance's voice. "Forgive me, sir, but that doesn't-"

"Ah! No sirs around here! Just call me Lance. You're not a client, and from what I've read, you've been through the ringer and then some. If anything, I should be the one speaking up to you, Mr. Potter. I'm just an office worker. But you, son, are a bona fide hero, if the stories are to be believed."

Harry felt his face turn red. "Sorry, sir. I mean, Lance. It's just that the Weasleys are some of the nicest, most caring people I've ever met. I find it hard to believe that they'd just cut off a family member. Family is the most important thing to them."

"Almost right," Lance said. "They hold family dear, but they hold their pride even dearer. They won't let me help them financially, you see. Don't let this small apartment fool you, but I've made a very successful career for myself. I could retire today and live a full and happy life. But I hope to have children someday, and I'd like to be able to provide for them. But Molly and her kids don't have it so easy. She should have stopped before she had too many kids to take care of. I don't doubt her love, but I do wonder if she can afford to look after seven kids. I've offered to help, to get dollars converted into galleons, but she refuses every time."

"That sounds like them," Harry said a bit hotly, not liking the implication that the Weasleys had 'more children than they can afford,' as Malfoy had put it once. "They like to be independent."

"It's more than that!" Lance bellowed, shocking both Harry and Willow. "You don't understand what it means to be a Squib, do you? You're a half-blood, so you have it best of all. You can set foot in either world and feel totally at home. People will welcome you in the Muggle world or the Wizarding one all the same.

"Not so with people like me. I may come from magic, but once it was found out that I didn't have any myself, I was cast out. Not out of my home, but out of my world. I grew up with Muggles, and I learned how to live a life without magic. And I'm damned proud of my life. I work hard, and I have a wife who loves me and a niece who has fought against the darkness without any magical education since she was fourteen years old. What's more, she's stared into the abyss and had the strength to turn away when it looked back. We may not be blood, but I'm far prouder of Willow than I am of anyone named Weasley. At least if Willow gets married, I'll get an invite to her wedding. Somehow, I slipped Molly's mind when she married Arthur."

Harry was shocked into silence. This didn't sound at all like the Weasleys he knew. "But why? Just because you're not magic, they cut you out? Why would they do that?"

Lance barked out a harsh laugh before coughing some and nursing his mug of coffee. "Sorry about that. But magic isn't just a tool in their world, Mr. Potter. It's a way of life. Without magic, you can't do anything in that world. Even potion-brewing has a magical element to it beyond just chemistry and mixing ingredients. No school will educate me in magical things, so I couldn't even be a store vendor. I wouldn't know what I was selling. Magic is what gives my cousins the ability to overcome their poverty and keep their pride intact. To accept help from any other source, to even acknowledge that non-magical help could exist, it's an insult to them."

Harry didn't know what to say. Knowing Dumbledore, it was likely that Filch was lucky to even have a job at Hogwarts at all. "I'm so sorry, Mister- I mean, Lance. I didn't know."

"Oh, I don't blame you, Mister Potter. Don't be ashamed of what you are, so long as you don't look down on those not like you. I may not be quite so fond of Molly, but she has seven children who I've never met, but who I constantly worry about. I do read the Wizarding papers, still, and I know enough that the British Ministry is hushing up your bout with You-Know-Who last month. The man's a menace to the entire world, and if there's anything I can do to help you survive – or better yet, bring him down – then I'll gladly do so.

"As for you, Willow, there is something that you can do. Something I want you to do very much."

Willow nodded and leaned in closer. "What is it?" she asked softly.

"As I recall, Hogwarts can never keep a Defense professor for more than a year. Even if you can only do it for one year, seek out Dumbledore and get that job! Prepare Harry, and all of those kids, for what they're about to be up against. And be careful of Dumbledore. The man's shrewd and clever, but he doesn't always remember that the pieces on his chessboard are flesh and blood. You'd best get a wand, too, if only to blend in."

"You don't have a wand?" Harry exclaimed. "But how can you do magic?"

Lance chucked warmly as he sipped at his coffee. "Magic is power, Mister Potter, and any witch or wizard can tap into it. But without a focus for that power, it tends to be raw and far more dangerous. Wands are that focus. It allows for more precision at the cost of power. But Willow never learned with a wand, and yet she's learned enough control that I wonder if You-Know-Who should fear her more than Dumbledore."

"Uncle!" Willow protested. "Please, don't."

"But it's true, Willow," Lance said. "You could find and destroy You-Know-Who utterly if you put your mind to it."

"There are a lot of things I could do if I put my mind to it, Uncle Lance. And that's exactly why I don't do them. Staring into the abyss and looking away, remember?"

Harry got the distinct impression that there was a lot more being said here than he was understanding. Thankfully, Lance didn't seem intent on pressing the matter. "Of course, Willow, you're right. You wouldn't be half the woman you are if you gave in like that.

"And as for you, Mister Potter, I have some advice to give you before you leave. I may not have any magic, but I had to face magical bullies when I was younger, and yet I came out on top almost every time. You wanna know how I did it?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I'll never be a match for Voldemort, magic-wise, so any edge would be a good thing."

"Right. So, wizards tend to think of themselves as superior. Magic is their way of life, and that's also their weakness. They use magic for everything, and it gets to a point where they don't consider anything else. Physical contact is taboo in dueling, and even if a wizard does get close enough to touch another, they're more inclined to use a hex or a spell. That's their nature. They won't expect a physical blow. They won't expect you to grab their wand. And if you break their wand… Well, I got into trouble for that a few times. Had to pay for the new ones. But it was worth it. Take away a wizard's wand, and they are usually helpless. Break it, and you break the symbol of magic itself. It sends a powerful blow that few wizards are prepared for.

"But you share that weakness, Mister Potter. Learn how to fight, and fight dirty. Don't rely on your wand and your magic all the time. And get some contact lenses, for crying out loud! How much tape is holding those glasses together? If those fall off in a battle, you're blind. Blind is bad, you hear?"

Harry smirked. "Bad if it's me that's blind. Even without a wand, throwing dirt or sand can blind an enemy, I guess."

"Ha!" Lance laughed and smiled. "You know how to think outside the box, Potter! That's good, that's very good. You stand a chance. Now, one last thing, Harry. You go to school with a number of my cousins. Look after them for me, and if you can, let them know that they have family out there that hasn't forgotten them and who loves them, even if they barely know he exists."

Harry could only nod. "I promise, sir." He did not correct himself this time.

Lance nodded in understanding. "Good. Willow, you look after Harry and his friends. Keep an eye on things, and keep your wits about you, do you hear?"

Willow stood up and hugged her uncle. "I hear you. Don't worry. I'll take care of them."

"Hm. Well, you'd best be off, then. If you want to get a wand without going too far, I'd recommend J Street. Then get his friends to safety. You-Know-Who won't act out in the open just yet. Not with the Ministry denying his return. He'll be stealthy, so you fly under the radar as well. He won't think to look for Harry on this side of the Atlantic, but he has to go back sometime. Best prepare for that."

"I will, Uncle. Don't worry," Willow said patiently.

Lance sighed. "Well, you'd best be off. J Street will be packed with kids getting ready for school, so you might as well slip down there before it gets to be too late in the day."

"Will do. Take care, Uncle. And thank you," she said softly. "We're heading out," Willow called down the hall. "Good-bye, Aunt Irene! Take care of Uncle Lance!"

"You take care yourself, dear," she called back. "And do take care of young Harry!"

"I will, Auntie. Bye now!"

Exiting the apartment, Harry followed Willow back to the lift and waited for it to arrive. "That wasn't quite what I expected."

"Same here. I never thought about teaching at a magic school before. But, hey, it can't be too different from teaching regular high school students. Did that for a little bit. Also been teaching some witches informally. Combine the two, could be fun."

"Don't count on it," Harry warned her. "That job isn't safe."

Willow laughed as they stepped into the lift. "Few things are."

"I trust you, by the way," Harry said as they descended. "That thing to store memories, I'll use it for you."

"Thanks, Harry. Really, your trust means a lot, and we won't take it for granted." The elevator opened to allow them to exit. "Now, we need to get to J Street. Only last time I drove by, it went straight from I Street to K Street. Any thoughts on that?"

Harry grinned. "Sounds like a hidden place, like Diagon Alley. You can always phone your uncle for directions."

Willow shuddered. "No, not yet. That man needs at least another three cups of coffee before I dare approach him again today. But let's not let that stop us. J Street, here we come!"


	4. J Street

**Chapter Four: J Street**

* * *

><p>Harry followed Willow down the same street that had taken them to the apartment building until they got to an intersection. The signage told him that they were already on K Street. "So, which way?" he asked.<p>

"We take a left here," Willow said as she led them into a crosswalk. There was a small park on their left now. "So, Harry, ye of the Wizarding World, which way do you think we go next?"

That was a good question. Harry kept walking with Willow following him until they reached the next road, which sure enough was labeled I Street. "Well, I doubt it will be in the park," he said. "If it's anything like the Leaky Cauldron, it'll be hidden in the buildings. One that only wizards can see. We need to cross over that way."

Willow just nodded and gestured for him to move ahead, so he did just that. There were a lot of people wandering about on the sidewalks. _Probably tourists, since it's summer in the capital city._

Once across from the park, Harry watched the buildings as he headed back towards K Street, looking for any sign of an entrance. After pacing up and down the block three times, none was forthcoming.

"No luck?" Willow asked lightly.

"Not yet," Harry said. "The entrance could be on another block entirely, only if it's meant to be a missing street, then there should be multiple entrances. You know, one for each block. It's strange how J Street is just missing, like most high-rises don't have…" Harry trailed off as an idea came to him.

"You think of something, Harry?" Willow asked.

"Yeah, I think so. In here," he said, opening the door to an office building.

Willow followed behind him and Harry called a lift. "This might be nothing, but it makes sense."

"What does?" the witch asked as they boarded an empty lift.

When the doors closed behind them, Harry gestured to the buttons for various floors. "Look there. Floor 11, Floor 12, Floor 14. There's almost never a thirteenth floor because of superstitions. But just a moment," he said as he withdrew his wand and waved it over the panel.

Sure enough, a space slid into being between the 12 and 14 buttons, and it was labeled J13. Pressing the button, Harry grinned as he slid his wand back into his pocket. "Let's see where this takes us."

It was strange, but the lift didn't seem to be going up or down. It was, however, making a weird sort of churning noise. It stopped after a few seconds, and the door opened into a hustling, bustling, open-air street full of Wizarding stores, with witches and wizards strolling about just like they might in Diagon Alley.

And right as they exited the lift, a sign labeled 'J Street' welcomed them.

"Nifty," Willow said with a smile. "I'm impressed. As long as we're here, do you need anything yourself, Harry? School stuff, new clothes, maybe?"

"Actually, yeah," Harry said. "I might need some more parchment and ink, and my robes are getting a bit small, too. Not sure what the book list is for this year yet, so maybe we can come back here later on?"

"No problem! But first stop is Gringotts! Gotta be able to pay for stuff, after all."

Harry winced. "I don't have my key with me. It's still in my trunk."

"No worries," Willow assured him. "I have a vault, not to mention access to the Council's vault, so we can float you a bit for the time being," she said as she headed towards a smaller, but still recognizable marble white building that had to be the Goblin bank.

"Hang on a second," Harry said, the pieces of a puzzle coming together in his head. "You have a Gringotts key?"

"Sure do," WIllow confirmed. "Two, actually. One for the Council, and one for me, personally."

"But you said you'd never been here before. You said you didn't know how to get to J Street."

Oddly enough, Willow smiled. "Go on," she encouraged him.

"You lied to me," Harry said harshly. "This is the second time you've tricked me today. First was the lift back at the house, and now this."

"So far, so good," Willow said, sounding oddly cheerful. "What do you think that means?"

Harry had expected her to deny it all. He had expected a defense. He had not, however, expected to be quizzed on his suspicions. "You're testing me again," he concluded. "You said you want to train me, and this is all a part of that. A Death Eater isn't going to show his true face to me until it's too late. You're trying to keep me on my toes, aren't you?"

The red-haired witch beamed. "Got it in one! You're right, Harry. We will lie to you. We will trick you. We will deceive you. We will i_not_/i hurt you. It may seem cruel, but if you're going to be fighting the lowest of the low, who will resort to any means to win, then you need to be ready to do the same. People fight for different reasons. I'm sure there are plenty of people who signed up for one thing and ended up in too deep to get out. But there are others who will repay any mercy you show with murder and evil. You need to be ready, and we're not going to pull our punches in preparing you for what's to come. Do you understand, Harry?"

He did understand, was the funny thing. The more he listened to Willow, the more he agreed with her uncle that she would make a good DADA professor. She was – and so were her colleagues, he guessed – shrewd and cunning, and willing to go to any means to fight for what they believed in. _Almost like a good version of Slytherin House._

"Yeah, I understand. I won't lie. I wish things didn't have to be like this. But you're right about preparing for the worst. I'm guessing it's going to hurt, and it's going to be tough and painful, but I'm sure it will pay off, as well. And your uncle was right. You'd be a good teacher."

To Harry's surprise, Willow's face flushed a bit at his comments. "You're sweet, Harry. Thank you. But, come on! Gringotts! This way!" she said, leading him forward by the hand.

They made it quickly to the looming white marble of Gringotts, stepping inside and up to an available counter. It was not yet busy, and Harry guessed that Goblins didn't take Sundays off.

"Um, we'd like to visit my vault, please. That's Willow Danielle Rosenberg. My key is right here," the witch said, handing a large metal key to the Goblin at the desk.

The creature examined the key carefully before fixing its gaze on Willow. Harry couldn't tell the Goblin's gender. "This key is registered to a wandless witch. Certain events have given us reason for added security. If you could perform a simple illumination spell with which to confirm your identity?"

Willow didn't hesitate and held up her right hand, palm open and facing up. "Light," she said. Sure enough, a ball of light appeared in her hand.

Harry was taken aback by both the display and by the simplicity of the incantation. Could he really just say 'light' instead of 'lumos' if he wanted to make light at the end of his wand? Would such a thing work for other spells? Just watching magic without a wand was something amazing.

The Goblin, whose voice sounded rather male, seemed satisfied, but gave no indication of anything else. "Very well, Miss Rosenberg. Your identity has been verified. Your usual security detail will be slightly increased due to the presence of your guest," he said in a bored-sounding voice.

"I understand," Willow said. "Thank you."

"Not at all, Miss. Talkak will be your guide."

At the desk-Goblin's words, another well-dressed Goblin came forward to guide them forward. "This way, madam and sir," Talkak said politely. To Harry's surprise, Talkak sounded distinctly female.

They were led to a cave with a cart that looked to take them underground, just like in London. Only the cart waiting for them was larger than normal, and a pair of rather burley-looking Goblins wearing armor was waiting for them. "Willow, why do you have a security detail?"

It was Talkak who answered. "It is a precaution due to a prior misuse of magic of Miss Rosenberg's part, sir," the female Goblin explained. "Though all of her visits have proceeded without any fuss, we hold the security of our wards in the highest regard. We also have your safety in mind, Mister Potter."

Harry was surprised that the Goblin knew his name, but he realized that he shouldn't be. His face was famous, after all. "Um, not to be rude Willow, but are you dangerous?"

Again, Talkak was the one to answer. "Anyone and anything can be dangerous in the right circumstances, Mister Potter. Certain elements of the magical community alerted us to the rise of an especially powerful witch in Sunnydale approximately six years ago. In that time, Miss Rosenberg has become quite possibly the most powerful witch in the Western Hemisphere."

Harry felt his face pale as he looked to Willow. It seemed that the blood that had drained from his face had flown to hers, a she was blushing profusely. She was also staring down with a look of distinct shame.

"Um, thank you for your help, Miss Talkak, but do you mind if we go to my vault now?" Willow asked rather meekly.

"Certainly, Miss. Please forgive my digression, but Goblin-kind has not forgotten the horrors that Lord Voldemort inflicted upon us during his first reign of terror. Nor do we take the word of Harry Potter lightly. If dark times are upon us once again, then we shall do what we can to protect him," Talkak explained without apology.

For her part, Willow seemed to accept the Goblin's statement for what it was, and Harry found himself quite touched. He had no idea that his reputation extended beyond Wizard-kind to any of the other races. "Of course," the witch said. "Now, um, vault please?"

"Yes, Miss. Hold on."

* * *

><p>Half an hour and two long cart rides later, Harry emerged from Gringotts behind Willow with conflicted emotions. Based on everything he had heard from Talkak, from Lance Prewett, and from Willow herself, the red-haired woman in front of him was an incredibly powerful witch who had dabbled in dark magic. He'd been holding off on confronting her directly about it with others nearby, but he didn't feel like waiting any longer.<p>

He stopped walking, and Willow took notice. "Everything okay, Harry?" she asked kindly.

"Maybe," he said carefully. "Can we talk?"

Willow paused briefly before nodding. "Yeah, I think you deserve that much. Over here?" She gestured to a bench nearby.

Harry nodded and sat down next to her. "So. Either everyone is exaggerating, or you really are one of the most powerful witches in the world."

Willow sighed. "I honestly don't know enough about the magical community as a whole to say. But I've done some incredible things." She paused and looked down. "I've also done some very terrible things. Evil things."

Harry could tell that this was eating at her, but there was no way he was going to trust her unless she came clean with him. "What did you do? Your uncle said you turned away from the darkness, but what exactly happened?"

Willow sighed and turned to face Harry directly, looking him straight in the eyes. "I started practicing magic when I was about sixteen years old. I'd done a minor potion or two before, but my first big spell was a really powerful one. I gave a vampire back his soul. That was the most dramatic thing I did for a while, but it got me thinking that I could do real good with my magic, so I started practicing in my spare time. It started with levitating pencils, and then it grew into so much more.

"My freshman year of college was when I met another witch for the first time. She was one of a long line of witches, but even though she'd been practicing her whole life, I was far more powerful. It was a common interest at first that brought us together, but then we became something truly wonderful."

Harry felt something in his gut as Willow's voice went up a few octaves at those last words. Had this other girl been her lover?

"There came a time when we fought against a particular Big Bad," Willow went on, "and Tara – that was her name – was in terrible danger. She was hurt, and in a fit of rage, I drew upon some dark power to take my revenge. But it wasn't enough. The enemy was beaten due more to luck than to anything else. I weakened her a bit, and I never found out who delivered the final blow.

"But I'd tasted magic so powerful that I couldn't turn away from it. I began pulling from certain wells of power that were tainted with darkness, and that I should have left alone, but I didn't. Tara left me and I ended up hurting Dawn before I realized that I needed help. I made the mistake of thinking that all magic was addictive and terrible, when really it was only that dark, revenge-based power. But I didn't want to hurt my friends, and that kept me from using magic for a few months. And things started to get back to normal."

Harry listened to Willow's confession, and he got the distinct feeling that the older witch didn't tell this story that often, nor did she trust it to many people. "But that wasn't the end, was it?" Harry asked.

"If only," Willow said wistfully. "Tara came back to me, and we were together and happy, and all was right with the world." A tear fell down her cheek. "And then she died. An idiot with a gun tried to kill Buffy, but he missed and hit Tara, and she died in my arms. And all of the darkness that I had been working to push back and deny, it came right back to me more powerful than ever before. And it wasn't enough.

"I had to make him pay, and I did. I won't go into the details, but let's just say that he didn't deserve what happened to him. He had a couple of accomplices who had nothing to do with Tara's death, but I wanted revenge on them anyway. By that point, I wasn't really myself. There was another person wearing my face, with black hair and black eyes and veins popping out all over, but it wasn't me.

"Giles tried to stop me, using power he had borrowed, and I took that power from him. It put me in touch with the Earth, and with everyone living in it. I felt all the joy and all the pain. It felt like too much, and I just wanted to end it all. And I tried to do just that."

Harry felt a shiver run through him, though he didn't break eye contact. "You tried to do what, exactly?" he asked, sounding braver than he really felt.

"I tried to end the world, Harry. I found an ancient artifact, a demonic temple of some kind, and I tried to activate it to destroy all of this," she said, gesturing to the lively street around them. "But Xander, bless him, was there to stop me. He is my best friend, the one I've known the longest, and he has no magic whatsoever. He doesn't have super strength, or any special powers of any kind. But he's brave and loyal and good. He talked me down and stepped between me and the temple.

"He told me that he loved me no matter what, and for all that I tried to remain angry and vengeful, and for all that I tried to hurt him, he just kept coming closer until I collapsed into his arms and let out my grief the way I should have done way sooner."

"…" Harry was too stunned to speak. Willow had done all of that, and had she might have succeeded if not for her friend, a Muggle with the courage not to back down from someone he loved going down the wrong path. And something Willow had said earlier, about good and evil not being so black and white, made a lot more sense. If grief could drive someone to such horrible things, then what else could do the same? "That's just… I don't know what to say. You… And now…"

Willow let out a sad chuckle and turned away. "Yeah, I wouldn't blame you for hating me. I hated myself for a long time, and I was terrified to do magic at all, even when my friends needed my help desperately the next year. I went to Devon to be with a coven to heal, and when I came back, I was so afraid that my friends wouldn't want to see me that they didn't. I made myself invisible to them because I was afraid. I almost died, but they saved me. They're really too good for me."

Harry sighed. Clearly, Willow had been beating herself up about this for at least a few years. It was evident that she'd repented and felt distinct remorse. She might be dangerous, but so was Dumbledore, and while he might be manipulative and distant at times, Harry didn't think that either the headmaster or the witch sitting next to him were evil.

"I don't know if you're looking for me to hate you or to forgive you, Willow," Harry finally said, "but you've clearly paid for what you did. How you're not in prison, I don't know, but I'm guessing you've done enough good to make up for it. If you fight demons regularly, like you say you do, then that's a better repayment than just sitting alone locked up, right?"

Willow chuckled lightly. "Tell that to Faith when we get back, Harry. She'll appreciate it more than I ever can."

Harry felt a shiver run down his spine. Again. "You and Faith… You've both killed people, haven't you?"

"We have, and we've paid for it in our own ways. It eats at me every day, what I've done, and I know that Faith will never truly forgive herself either. But we try to make things better so that others don't have to go through what we did. That's something worth fighting for, I figure."

"That's for sure," Harry said. "You said you would lie to me, and that you would deceive me. Why would you tell me something like this if you're willing to hide the truth? Or is any of this even true at all?"

Willow smiled sadly. "The lies we'd tell would serve to strengthen you against your enemies. The truths we tell you will do the same. This is the truth, and there's a lot to learn from it. Don't forget that. I had to learn the hard way that even the purest of emotions can lead to darkness. Please don't make my mistakes, Harry."

Nodding slightly, Harry got to his feet. "Well, you heard your uncle. With all that power of yours, you need a focus for it. So shall we get you a wand?"

Smiling more warmly, Willow got to her feet and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Thank you, Harry. I think that would be nice."

* * *

><p>Harry followed Willow as she sought out the wand shop in the growing business of the day. Despite his trust of the American witch – and he did trust her – Willow's self-confessed crimes made him wary of her, and he wasn't about to turn his back on her.<p>

They eventually arrived at a humble brick and mortar shop with the name 'Wands by L'Enfant' engraved in curvy gold letters on a plaque on the wall.

Stepping inside, Harry found the layout of the place remarkably similar to Ollivander's, only it didn't look quite so ancient. There was nobody at the desk.

As Harry sat down on a small bench by the window, Willow walked up to the desk and rang a small bell.

A white-haired man's head popped out from behind a shelf. "Ah! Good day to you both! I can't say I was expecting anyone looking for a replacement wand today. But, oh my, oh my. You already have quite the wand, don't you, my boy?" His voice was distinctly American, but it had a slight French accent.

Harry guessed that his wand was being requested, so he took it out and proffered it to the man. "Yes, sir. This is mine. It's-"

"-eleven inches, yes. Holly, with a phoenix feather for a core. Nice and supple. Looks like a good, solid Ollivander product, am I right?" the man said as he cradled Harry's wand in his fingers.

"Uh, yeah. That's right," Harry said sheepishly.

"Hm, yes. Well, it seems to be in fine shape. Seen some wear, but that's the sign of a good wizard, yes! Here you go again. And now to you, Miss. My name is Robert L'Enfant, and this is my humble shop. Welcome."

"Uh, thanks," Willow said humbly. "So, you by any chance related to-"

"Yes, yes! I see my reputation precedes me. Well, my legacy, in any event. My ancestor, Pierre Charles L'Enfant designed this city, and it was thanks to his good will that J Street exists at all. It's an honor, really. But enough about me. Are you here to replace a wand? I never forget a wand I've sold, and I don't recall seeing you in my shop before. Did one of my family sell you your first?"

"Uh, actually no," Willow said, keeping her head high. "I'm looking for my first wand. I grew up in Sunnydale, you see, and-"

"Oh, my! Say no more, my dear! You're quite lucky to have survived that place! But why choose to relocate here, of all places? After Sunnydale, wouldn't you rather prefer a more peaceful place?"

"Well," Willow said, and Harry could tell she was close to laughter, "I actually moved to Cleveland first, and then here. I'm with the Watcher's Council, you see."

"You are a Watcher?" L'Enfant exclaimed. "So young to be fighting such horrors. But, if that is your calling, then I would be remiss in not aiding you in your quest against the darkness. Now, then, hold still and let me take your measurements, please."

Harry held in a chortle at Willow's obvious discomfort at having not only her arms measured by self-measuring tape, but also her eyes, ears, nostrils, as well as some distinctly feminine attributes that Harry had certainly never been measured for when he had gotten his own wand.

"Hm, yes, I see," L'Enfant muttered. "Well, this is going to take quite a bit longer than most wand selections, I'd say. My dear, do you have any idea how much power you are capable of channeling?"

Harry saw Willow visibly shudder. "All too well, sir," she said softly.

"Well, at least you're aware of yourself. That should help things greatly. Now then, I'll be right back," he said, trotting off into the racks of shelves. He emerged far quicker than Harry would have expected, carrying a number of thin boxes which Harry knew each contained its own wand.

"All right, then. Try this one. Ash, twelve inches, with a phoenix feather at the core. Pliable. Go on, give it a wave."

Willow took the wand and held it awkwardly for a moment. She finally waved it around a bit, which caused a pillar of rock to erupt out of the ground and knock over a shelf.

"Oh, my Gods! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean-"

"No matter, my dear! Happens all the time. So, not that one. Try this one. A rather peculiar wand, this one. Yew, thirteen and a half inches, with a hair from the head of a vampire. A Watcher's wand, I dare say."

Harry wondered if that would be the wand for her, but after her wave caused a pile of seawater to randomly pour itself onto Mister L'Enfant's head, he felt a wave of relief.

"Hm, perhaps not. But then again, this hair was bleached, come to think of it. And the donor was surprisingly not quite as bloodthirsty as I'd have imagined, given his alleged reputation."

Willow laughed out loud at that remark. Harry made a mental note to ask her about it.

Several wands later, the shop lay in almost complete disarray, and only Harry's little corner by the window seemed untouched by the mayhem. Ollivander had said that he'd been a tricky one, and Willow had gone through more wands than he had.

"Well, I knew this would be a lengthy ordeal, but I'm sure we'll find one for you, yet! Now, my dear, try this one. Willow, eleven and a half inches, dragon heartstring core. Unyielding."

Harry smiled at the mention of the wood the wand was made of, but he was even more surprised when Willow herself was surrounded by a warm golden glow, with black, white, and red sparks erupting from the tip of the wand.

"Wow! That felt wonderful," the witch said. "Like it was meant for me."

"That's because it was, my dear. The wand chooses the witch, after all. But be wary of this wand and how you use it. Willow wood is capable of channeling a great deal of power, and in fact has much power inherent in it already. And the dragon heartstring lends itself more towards darker arts than other wand cores. But it is your choices, of course, that determine what sort of witch you will be, not your wand. I only hope that this wand serves you well in your duties as a Watcher. The rumors these days! They say that Slayers have been appearing all over the world. Something has changed, and I can only hope it is for the better."

"Yeah, me too," Willow said hastily. "So, um, how much do I owe you, sir?"

"Oh, yes. That will be eleven galleons and six sickles, please."

Willow handed over the currency with a muttered 'thank you,' after which Robert L'Enfant wished them a good day and bowed them from his shop.

"Well," Willow said when they were back in the open air, "that wasn't quite what I expected."

Harry laughed. "And I thought I had it tough. Do you think that visitors' bench has some protection on it for cases like that one?"

"It wouldn't surprise me, Harry. And speaking of surprises, look up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane!"

"You're not telling me Superman is real, are you?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Actually, it is a bird. i_Your_/i bird," she said, pointing to the distinctive white shape of Hedwig flying towards him.

"There you are!" Harry said, reaching out his arm for the owl to perch herself on. "Find a good meal, girl?" Hedwig hooted happily in response.

"Well, I'm glad you're both happy. I need to get a few books to acquaint myself with wand-based magic, and then I think I can teleport us back to the house."

"What happened to not arousing suspicion?"

"We were in the non-magical world earlier. Magic tends to stand out. So, give me a few minutes in the book shops? Maybe we can find some books on curses and jinxes that might not be in your regular curriculum?"

Harry grinned. "I like the way you think. I really hope you get the Defense job. If your classes are anything like what little I know about you, then Hogwarts won't know what hit it."


	5. The Interview

**Chapter Five: The Interview**

* * *

><p>Night had fallen on Washington DC, and Harry reminisced about the events of the day while he watched groups of teenage girls – Slayers – exit the house to 'patrol,' whatever that meant. He had stopped at the post office in J Street to send letters to Ron and Hermione to let them know that he was okay and in the care of the Watcher's Council. He honestly didn't know much about the group, but Hermione likely would.<p>

Writing to Sirius was not an option with the post office - as he was a wanted fugitive - nor could he use Hedwig, who simply could not fly all the way across the Atlantic. He'd trusted the task of reassuring Sirius to Ron and Hermione. Not knowing where Sirius was located ate at him, but Dumbledore had told him to 'lie low at Lupin's' if he recalled correctly. Then again, Harry didn't know where Professor Lupin lived, either.

After coming back from J Street, Harry had watched Willow literally absorb the knowledge contained in all the books she had purchased. The text went up her arms and her face until her eyes went black and her hair changed color multiple times before returning to its original shade of red.

"I prefer to read," she had told him, "but too much to read in too little time makes for knowledge sponge-age." Americans, he decided, did not deserve to call their language 'English.'

Harry had gone up to his room hoping to relax, only to be ambushed by a trio of girls wielding wooden staffs. He'd been soundly beaten, but not to the point of serious injury, and a witch he hadn't met had healed him up nicely. The lesson had definitely been learned. Constant vigilance, even on friendly terrain.

Other lessons had been drilled into him as well. He was never to offer an invitation to anyone into his home. That was how vampires got to you, it seemed. He could open the door and stand aside, but no 'come in,' no welcome mat, and no trusting of friends, either. They could have been turned, after all. Also, he was never to wish for anything. That way led to ruin, according to those with personal experience.

Harry had also made the mistake of going to the kitchen for an afternoon snack, only to find himself walking into a den of ravenous Slayers, many of which were his own age. They acted as though they had never seen a boy in their life, and there was suddenly a lot of grabbing of his arms, legs, hair, ears, and whatever else they could get their hands on as the super-strong girls tried to claim him for their own. Unable to reach his wand, Harry had a sudden burning desire to learn how to apparate. The girls had finally been broken up by a rather scary woman named Kennedy, who thankfully had no designs on him, but seemed rather jealous of his time spent with Willow.

After his snack, before he could make his way back up to his room, he ran into a young man who turned out to be Andrew. He was nice enough, but he seemed rather clingy and needy. Harry also got the feeling that Andrew wanted a bit more from Harry than he was willing to give, and he was quite glad to be rid of the nerd. Harry had nothing against nerds, but he didn't want to be stared at like that. Not by a man, at least.

The lift hadn't worked when he'd tried it, and so he'd taken ten flights of stairs up to his room on the top floor, only to be met by Xander and a small squad of Slayers with evil grins on their faces. Harry then found himself chased all around the house, through the hallways and down the stairs, through the kitchen, down to the garage, and back all the way up again before he was able to get into his room and shut the door behind him.

Now, two hours later, Harry was resting on a simple twin bed that was perfectly fine, if not Hogwarts-level comfortable. It was late, and he was just about ready to turn in, shut his eyes, and get some bloody rest. He thought he heard some Slayers move past his room on their way out for the night. Faith's voice amongst them made Harry feel a bit better for some reason.

His door suddenly burst open, and Willow was standing there. "Get packed, Harry. Hurry up! We're going to London, pronto!"

* * *

><p><em>EARLIER THAT DAY<em>

Willow had just soaked in the knowledge from the various books that she had purchased, and whoa! That had been intense, and not in the dark and spooky way that it had been like when she'd gone all dark. Those were evil texts, but these were just study things. It was weird, having all that knowledge in her head in that form, but she had assimilated it before, and she could do it again.

"Willow! Please come here!" Giles said urgently. "Quickly, now!"

"Coming!" Willow rushed over to Giles, who was looking over a strange periodical with moving pictures. The pictures in the newspaper were moving! So cool! "What am I looking for?"

"This," Giles said, gesturing to a small article hidden in the corner. "Educational Decree Number Twenty-Two. This is Britain's Wizarding newspaper, I should mention. Harry was smart enough to pick up a copy in J Street and let me look it over. If you do intend to take that job that your uncle suggested, then you'd best do it soon."

"A lot of people lining up for the spot?" Willow asked.

"The opposite, actually. Nobody seems to want the job, but the Ministry just approved a law to appoint its own representative if the headmaster can't find one in time. And given Dumbledore's stance against Voldemort, along with the Ministry's denial of his return…"

"We now have a law that lets them appoint their very own spy. Great. Well, the kids need to learn, and I know my stuff. Can you get me a map of the area near Hogwarts?"

"We've tried, Willow, but Hogwarts doesn't seem to appear on any map. However, there is a town called Hogsmeade in the Scottish countryside. The connection seems obvious, but it could be a coincidence.

"Move over, Giles. I can take it from here." Willow shoved Giles to the side in his wheeled chair while Willow accessed Google Earth and searched for inhabited areas in otherwise rural Scotland. She had to zoom in quite a bit, but she saw what looked like a railroad track leading north. Willow followed it until it terminated in a small village. She moved the cursor and found an empty spot of land. No trees or buildings of any kind. Just a large area of nothingness.

Willow smiled. "Hogwarts! Found you! Unplottable you may be, but you never anticipated satellites, didja? I could try to go straight to you, but you're protected. Hogwarts, A History says so. Best go to Hogsmeade instead and then walk."

Focusing the satellite image over a road in Hogsmeade, Willow stuck her hands into the computer screen and let herself be sucked in.

She found herself falling through the air towards the town thousands of feet below. "Halt," she commanded, and she stopped falling. "Land," she said, and she suddenly stood on the ground. It was getting dark over here. The sun was setting, but Willow felt confident that she could reach the castle before then.

Forty-five minutes of walking brought her through the wrought-iron gates and up to a great wooden door. She knocked hard on the door, and thankfully a tall, older woman heard her and answered a minute later. She wore spectacles and green robes, and she had her grey hair in a neat bun. She looked like a rather strict teacher. "May I help you?" she inquired sharply.

Willow instinctively recoiled from memories of teachers and professors who had told her she'd made a mistake in class. "Uh, yes ma'am. I was hoping to talk to Professor Dumbledore. I heard that there's a job open. For, you know, the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and I have some experience in that area, and I also have a bit of experience in the teaching department, so I was thinking that I could be of some help. And also there's that new law that basically says that the Ministry gets to appoint someone to mess things up if you can't find anyone, so I thought that we could kinda help each other out."

The older woman stared at Willow for a while before finally blinking. "Are you sure you're human, girl? I don't think you breathed once during all that time. But please, come inside and warm up."

"Thanks! It's not really that cold out. I'm guessing it gets pretty cold during the winters, though."

"That it does. My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall, and I am the Deputy Headmistress. You happened to catch us during our evening meal, so Professor Dumbledore is right this way. Follow me."

"Cool. Thank you, Professor," Willow said sincerely.

McGonagall made a sound that might have been disapproval. "You don't seem much older than a student yourself. But, desperate times call for desperate measures. Are you aware of the supposed curse on this job, Miss..."

"Rosenberg. Willow Rosenberg. And, yes, I am. And I do have a bit of experience. More than a bit, actually. Helped to avert a few apocalypses. Which is kind of weird, given the nature of an apocalypse. There should only be one, but there's always a new one trying to sneak up on you. Like with what happened in June. That's why I'm here."

McGonagall stopped in her tracks and rounded on Willow. "Be careful what you say, girl," the older woman said sharply, scaring Willow into silence. "Even if you believe the truth, it isn't wise to go saying such things in public."

Willow simply nodded. "Sorry! I didn't mean to go stepping on any toes. And I'm sorry for interrupting your dinner. Just that teaching young people to defend themselves in such an environment seems important, y'know?"

"Hmph. You'll get no argument from me there. I only hope you know half of what you claim to know, for all of our sakes." McGonagall led Willow from a rather grand entrance hall into an even grander room, with several floating candles lighting the room, and the sunset shone overhead, despite there being not a bit of cold or wind in the air.

Willow was led up to a table on a raised area in the back of the room, where a number of adults were taking their supper. Willow immediately guessed that the eldest man in the center with the bright purple robes was Dumbledore. He reminded her simultaneously of Merlin and Gandalf, just from the tales she'd read and watched. _I wonder if either of them was real?_

"Headmaster," McGonagall announced, "I'd like to introduce you to Miss Willow Rosenberg, who has expressed an interest in applying for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Miss Rosenberg, this is Headmaster Albus Dumbledore"

There were only a few other adults at the table, but this immediately got their attention. A tiny, kind-looking man gave a small squeak, followed by a knowing smile. An incredibly large, bearded man looked at her hopefully, and a sallow-faced, greasy-haired man simply stared intently, as if trying to see something beyond the obvious.

Dumbledore himself rose to his feet and smiled. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Rosenberg. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, extending his hand. "Please, have a seat."

"Uh, thank you. But, you've got all the chairs already, sir," she said as politely as she could while she shook his hand.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry! Please, allow me," Dumbledore said, waving his wand and producing a simple wooden chair that plopped itself down across from his own seat. "Do sit down."

"Thanks," Willow said, taking her seat. "So, uh, what would you like to know about me? And, I guess, what do I need to know about you?"

Dumbledore raised a white eyebrow. "Are you saying you are unfamiliar with Hogwarts and its history?"

"Yup! Because, kind of an American here. Also never got a formal magical education. Didn't really know schools like this even existed until about two years ago. I'm mostly self-taught, but I've had lots of help from my friends. And don't think I'm not experienced, because I am. Been fighting all sorts of baddies since I was fourteen. After one of my best friends got turned into a vampire, and my other friend had to stake him… Well, I couldn't really pretend that all was right with the world, could I? So, I've been helping to fight back ever since."

Dumbledore dipped his head. "I'm sorry for your friend. What was his name?"

Willow was touched at the consideration Dumbledore showed. "Jesse McNally. He was only a few months older than me at the time. But considering where we lived, it was kinda lucky that fewer people died than they did."

"And where, pray tell, did you live, where such horrors are supposedly commonplace?" the greasy-haired man said snidely.

Willow glared at the man, not liking him much. "Ever heard of Sunnydale, California, mister?"

A collective gasp went up from the residents of the table, except for the black-haired man whose face remained impassive as he held Willow's gaze without flinching.

"You grew up in Sunnydale," Dumbledore said softly. He was not smiling now.

Willow turned back to face him. "Yeah. Strange things had always happened there, but it didn't really pick up until my sophomore year of high school. That's when the fighting really started, and the good guys and the bad guys both started getting serious. I got some teaching experience in during high school, too. Though, that was with computers and not magic. I didn't really know much magic at that point. But I took a really big step forward when…"

Willow sniffed. "There was a teacher named Jenny. She was amazing, and she let me help her out with her classes. She knew some magic. Gypsy magic, and there was a vampire who we were trying to re-ensoul to keep him from doing any more damage. But Angel got to Jenny before she could pull off the spell, and she… She…"

"Please, take your time," Dumbledore said. After Willow had regained her composure, he continued. "You mentioned a vampire named 'Angel.' Is there any relation to the one known as Angelus?"

Willow sniffed again and gave a sad smile. "You could say that. Angelus crossed some gypsies a while back, and they cursed him by giving him a soul. He had to feel the guilt of all the pain he'd caused for the first time, and that was their revenge. Jenny Calendar was really Jana Kalderash of that same gypsy clan, and she was in Sunnydale to make sure that Angel – that was what he called himself with a soul – continued to suffer.

"But something happened. Angel fell in love with one of my best friends. And that caused him to revert to Angelus. Apparently, if he has one moment of true happiness, the curse is lifted. And seeing as that happened, I had to re-ensoul him while I was recovering from another vampire attack. And it worked. A bit too late to stop Buffy from sending Angel to Hell, but he came back, and he's been helping to fight the good fight ever since," Willow said proudly.

Dumbledore nodded silently, as if vampires with souls returning from Hell was perfectly normal. "And that was your first major spell?"

Willow laughed. "I may have done a few potions before hand, but that was my first real spell, period, that I can recall. I went a lot slower after that, but our group was able to take out vampires a lot easier once I got my mojo working consistently. Fire and light and telepathically coordinating attacks can really help against vampires, y'know?"

"Indeed." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brightly. "Tell me, did you have anything to do with the collapse of Sunnydale?"

"Uh, kinda? I mean, I took place in the battle. I mean, not really. I mean, I did a really big spell that helped turn the tide of the fighting, but I didn't do any fighting myself. I had to be kept safe so that the Slayers could do their-" Willow suddenly went silent, mentally cursing herself for letting slip the identities of the people she worked with.

"Did you say 'Slayers,' Miss Rosenberg? You mean to say that there is more than one? Are you a Watcher?" Dumbledore asked softly.

Willow got the distinct feeling that lying to this man would be a very bad idea, and she doubted she could even do so without resorting to magic of the not-good kind. Besides, they seemed familiar with the term already. "Yes to all of the above. There were two Slayers before that final battle. Xander, bless him, took this prophecy and tore it into shreds. Buffy, that was the Slayer who came to Sunnydale, and one of my best friends, was supposed to die, and she did. But whoever wrote that prophecy didn't count on good ol' CPR to bring her back. So, with her being alive, but also having died, there were two Slayers.

"Kendra came next, and she was all right. A bit uptight, but a good fighter. But we lost her. Drusilla killed her. I'm guessing you know who Drusilla is."

"I do, Miss Rosenberg. Please continue," Dumbledore said patiently.

"Well, after Kendra came Faith. And that's a long story that can wait for another time. But she's still around, and helping out, but even two Slayers wasn't enough when The First started sending its Bringers to kill off all of Potential Slayers out there a little over three years ago."

"Ah," Dumbledore said, as if he suddenly realized something. "I had wondered why the Council's Headquarters was attacked. It was the work of this First you speak of?"

Willow smiled to herself at the prospect of this great wizard not knowing about the true nature of The First. "Yeah, that's it. At least one Watcher survived, and we found a few later on. But we gathered up all the Potentials back in Sunnydale, hoping that two Slayers could protect them. Finally, we had to take the battle down into the Hellmouth itself and face down an army of Turok-Han to prevent them from spreading all over the Earth."

"Merlin's beard!" McGonagall exclaimed. "An army of Turok-Han? I hadn't thought them to be real! You must have been mad to attack such a force with only two Slayers. If the legends are even half-true, one Turok-Han would be more than a match for a Slayer. But you faced an army of them?"

Willow smiled. "It's good to know that people outside of the Council have some idea of what we're up against. We might ask for your help from time to time, if we really need it."

"One thing at a time," Dumbledore said in a placating tone. "The honest truth is that while the Council is vaguely familiar to some in the Ministry, the true nature of Slayers is considered myth and superstition by most. I was included in that number until Sunnydale collapsed, and I began to investigate the history of the place. But you were saying about fighting this army of Turok-Han, Miss Rosenberg?"

Willow smiled a bit. "Uh, yeah. Two Slayers wouldn't have stood a chance, so that's where I came in. We found a way to change the world, and they left that task to me. I tapped into the essence of the Slayer line and activated every Potential in the entire world. Every girl that could have been a Slayer became a Slayer. So, we had a small army of our own at that point."

"You did this thing all on your own?" the tiny man squeaked. "The skill and the power to achieve such a thing must be extraordinary!" he said, seeming more than a little impressed.

"Oh, it was exhausting. My girlfriend at the time had to carry me out of there. I collapsed once the spell was done. And even the Slayer army wasn't enough. It was actually Spike that saved the day. His soul burned brightly enough, magnified by a talisman of some kind, and it burned up all of the Turok-Han and collapsed the Hellmouth. We could see Sunnydale becoming a crater behind us as we drove out of town.

"After that, we took a moment to catch our breath, and then we moved to Cleveland, where there was another Hellmouth that had become active. That was almost three years ago. About a year after that, the power of the Cleveland Hellmouth began to fade while one in Washington DC began to rise, so we relocated there. Since then, we've been fighting vampires and demons and other assorted nasties wherever they appear. I'm usually the one in charge of making sure that the others get to where they need to go, considering that demons are everywhere in the world. I'm also called in personally for the more difficult situations."

"Hm." Dumbledore stroked his beard, looking pensive. "Are you the only witch on the Watcher's Council, Miss Rosenberg?"

"Oh, no! We've been recruiting, but most of our mages don't use wands. I don't know of any that have used a wand, to be honest. I just got my wand earlier today, and I went through some books to catch up on how wand magic differs from wandless casting. I've been teaching a lot of the other witches and warlocks – but I hear you call them 'wizards' – and I've also taught computer studies to high school students. And, I think I already mentioned that part."

Willow paused and took a breath. "So, um, do you need to know anything else about me? Do I need to demonstrate my skills, so you know what I'm capable of?"

"An excellent suggestion!" Dumbledore said brightly. "I imagine that I will want to know about your specific knowledge, but a practical demonstration would be most helpful. Severus, if you would?"

"Headmaster," the greasy-haired man acknowledged, rising to his feet and walking around the table towards the large open area in the center of the room.

"So, uh, you want us to fight, sir?" Willow asked. "To first blood? To unconsciousness?"

"A proper wizard's duel is all," Dumbledore said. "A test of skills until one of you is incapable of fighting further, nothing more."

Willow smirked. "All right. What are the rules for a wizard's duel, as you call it?" she said a bit cockily. She did not get up from her seat and move to meet the man named Severus.

Dumbledore simply smiled patiently. "You stand a good distance apart, raise your wands, bow, and then commence your spell-slinging at the mark."

Willow nodded. "Right, gotcha." She turned to face Severus. "Wand."

Before he had even drawn it from his pocket, the greasy-haired man found his wand flying through the air into Willow's waiting hand. She shot out her other hand, and the man went flying backwards until he hit the stone wall on the far side of the room.

"Still," Willow commanded, and the snarky teacher found himself unable to move.

"That was hardly a proper duel," McGonagall cried harshly as she rose to her feet. "Your skills are impressive, if that display is any indication, but you have much to learn about our society, Miss Rosenberg."

"Really?" Willow challenged as she arched a brow at the stern woman. "If I'm teaching kids to fight for their lives, then the first thing they need to know is that there is only one rule: don't die. Your enemies – and do they really call themselves 'Death Eaters?' How stupid a name is that? – are not going to be nice and give you warning before they attack. You need to prepare yourself for an attack from any angle at any time.

"I can also tell you that if you accept me for the position, there will be far more to my lessons than spellcraft, both wandless and with wands. I'll be teaching physical fitness and close quarters combat with a variety of weapons, though I may need some help for that. A Slayer would probably be a good teacher's assistant for a few lessons, I think. And I'll be teaching them the importance of intimidation and deception. That is to say, recognizing it, standing up to it, and using it against an enemy.

"So, what do you think?" Willow asked with a bright smile.

Dumbledore was definitely _not_ smiling, and his eyes were cold. Still, he seemed more pensive than upset. "I think you may wish to release Professor Snape and return his wand first."

"Oh! Right, sorry! Release," she incanted, and Snape fell to the ground. She held out his wand in the palm of her hand and floated it over to him gently. For his part, Snape took his wand with a glare that was not quite hostile.

"Now, then," Dumbledore said. "You said you had experience with telepathy. I could ask you to fill out a written test, but that would be time-consuming when we don't really have time to spare. With your permission, may I see into your thoughts? I know the art of legilimency, but to receive a more direct communication would be… Oh, I see. Yes, yes."

Willow had started projecting her memories into Dumbledore's mind, and she could tell that he was carefully examining each of them to filter out any deceptions. She didn't show him everything, and communicated to him him if she was holding back and why.

She made a special point of showing her experiences surrounding Tara's death very slowly and deliberately. If Dumbledore was as cunning and Machiavellian as his reputation suggested, then honesty would go a long way.

Finally, Willow showed him what she had learned of Harry Potter, Voldemort, and the circumstances surrounding her removal of him to the United States. Harry's safety was likely a paramount concern, and she wanted to reassure the old man. Finally, she cut the link and let Dumbledore mull over what he had seen.

"I see, I see. Yes. Well, you'll be needing this," Dumbledore said as he took out a quill and began to scribble on a napkin before handing it to Willow.

Willow looked at the napkin, which read, 'The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.' As soon as she had finished reading it, the napkin burst into flame and disintegrated, though Willow's skin was not burned.

"Please bring your charge to that location as soon as possible. There are people there who are waiting and worried, and it would be best not to keep them for much longer. It would best if you came to stay as well."

Willow realized that Dumbledore was trying to keep certain information from some of the others, so she simply nodded. "I understand."

"Well then, I suppose we should start calling you 'Professor Rosenberg.' I'll expect a written curriculum with required textbooks as soon as possible."

"Headmaster!" McGonagall said desperately. "Are you sure-"

"I am quite certain, Minerva, that Willow Rosenberg will be a tremendous asset to both the students of Hogwarts and to the fight against Lord Voldemort. You would do well not to underestimate her. I doubt you shall be doing so anytime soon, Severus."

"Definitely not," Snape sneered as he retook his seat. "You have a difficult job ahead of you, Professor Rosenberg. I can only hope your skills with children are as potent as your apparent magical power."

Willow wasn't sure whether to take that as an implied insult or an implied compliment. Or maybe both. "I hope so, too, Professor Snape. And thank you for giving me this chance.

"Well, I'd best be out of here," Willow said as she got to her feet. "I think I have a better understanding of the wards around this castle now, so I think I should be able to get out okay. See you soon!" With a gust of energy rushing to surround her, she vanished from the Great Hall and re-appeared in the sitting room at Slayer Central.

Willow spent the next few hours gathering supplies for teaching, some spell ingredients, and various personal accessories and clothing to take with her for what might be an extended stay. She checked in with Giles and the others, and even managed to survive a round of Slayer-hugs from Buffy, Kennedy, and a number of other girls she'd grown close with. While they were no longer lovers, Kennedy was still a good friend. The possibility of bringing her ex-lover to Hogwarts as a teaching aid brought a smile to Willow's lips. The kids would be caught totally off-guard.

After shrinking down all of her things to fit in her pocket, Willow rushed up the stairs – passing Faith and a bunch of other Slayers along the way – and opened Harry's door without ceremony to find him passed out on his bed. She'd been hoping to train him some more here at Slayer Central, but she hadn't known she'd be getting the job at Hogwarts then. Now she would be able to kill two birds with one stone.

Harry looked surprised, but they were on a tight timetable. Never mind that he looked as though Xander had been running him ragged all day. "Get packed, Harry. Hurry up! We're going to London, pronto!"


	6. Grimmauld Place

**Chapter Six: Grimmauld Place**

* * *

><p>Harry stumbled to his feet, still exhausted from the so-called training he'd been put through today. "Wh-what? London? Why're we going to London?" he asked.<p>

Willow, now that he looked closely, was dressed for traveling already. "I'm guessing that's where your friends and godfather are. I just talked with Dumbledore, and he wants you to go there. I know, I know! Dumbledore is a manipulative old bastard, but he's also incredibly smart and hard to deceive. And besides, everyone's probably worried sick about you. So, you haven't unpacked anything yet, so that's good. Just get Hedwig and meet me at the elevator. And hurry!"

Harry wiped his eyes clean and took a hold of his trunk and wheeled it out, placing Hedwig in her cage gently on top. They proceeded to the lift in hurried silence, and he could tell that Willow was quite anxious. "Is everything okay, Willow?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah, I think so. I guess I'm just used to jumping when a teacher tells me to do something. I was always the bookish one who helped the others with their homework, doing all the extra credit and everything. One of the teachers even asked me to sub for her while I was still a student. She was really extraordinary," Willow said wistfully.

Harry chuckled. "You sound like Hermione. You two will probably get on great," he said as they boarded the lift and took it down to the ground floor.

Willow smiled. "She sounds like fun. What about Ron? What's he like? Is he anything like Xander, by any chance?"

Harry pondered the question for a moment. "He is a bit quirky at times, but he can be a bit hard to deal with. Ron's a great bloke, but he can be a bit of a prat sometimes. He's brave and loyal and a wonderful person, but he's not always the sharpest one in the room. Just, don't tell him I said that, please."

"Oh, no! I wouldn't do that, Harry! That'd just me mean and rude and all sorts of not-nice. And I like to be the nice one. Nice is good. Being angry is bad for my health. I get all dark and veiny and stuff tends to happen that's not of the good at all."

Harry grinned as they exited the lift and he followed Willow to a computer. "Don't get to know Malfoy or the Slytherins, then. They might make you angry."

"Well, that's too bad for them, since I'll be teaching them Defense this year. So don't think you've gotten out of your training, mister! Everything you went through today – and I have no doubt that Xander gave you only a small taste – you'll be going through on a regular basis at Hogwarts. As will everyone else. Just, don't share that, if you can help it. I want my teaching style to be a bit of a surprise. You all need to be prepared to face the unknown, after all."

Harry blinked. "Wow! I'm glad you got the job. Dumbledore must have been impressed. Or, maybe he was just desperate. Nobody wants the job these days."

Willow nodded. "He did try to have me duel against some teacher named Snape. I took his wand and flung him across the room. The look on all their faces was… Well, it was just as priceless as the look you have on your face right now," she said with a smile.

Harry tried to restrain himself from laughing, but it was a futile effort, and he started cackling like a madman. "Snape! You did that to Snape? Oh, I wish I could have been there!"

"Don't like him much, do ya? He does seem a bit sour."

"That's an understatement. So, are you about to book us a flight to London?" Harry said, gesturing at the computer.

"No, I'm looking up an address," Willow said.

Harry looked to see what address she was looking up, but the words were too blurred for him to make out. "Are you sure the computer is working?"

"Yeah, it's working fine. But the address doesn't seem to be there. Let me try one over."

Harry then saw more clearly as Google Earth zoomed in on a street labeled 'Grimmauld Place.' "Is that where we're going?"

"Yup!" Grab onto Hedwig and your stuff, okay? And give me just one more moment while I get a better picture of that street."

Harry thought he saw Willow's eyes glow a bit brightly for a moment, but maybe it was just a trick of the light. He doubted it, though, given what he'd seen her eyes do before.

"All right, then! Let's go!" Willow grabbed onto Harry, who held onto his things quite tightly as he felt a gust of something that might have been wind or magic or something else entirely engulf him…

* * *

><p>…and then he was standing on a dark street in what was definitely Muggle London. "Wow!"<p>

"Yeah, and we're looking for… Oh! There we are!" Willow said, but then her face seemed to be scrunching up. "I'm trying to tell you where we are, but I can't! This is freaky!"

As if in response to her words, a flash of fire brought a crimson feather into being, with a small role of parchment attached to it. It drifted right into Harry's arms.

"Fawkes," he realized as he took the parchment and read the words, 'The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.' As soon as he'd read the words, the parchment and the feather burst into flame again, though Harry was not burned.

"Was that a phoenix feather?" Willow asked with awe.

"Uh, yeah. Dumbledore has a pet phoenix named Fawkes. It was giving me a message about… Ah, there it is."

"You can see it now?" Willow asked.

"Yeah," Harry said as the house slid into being between Numbers Eleven and Thirteen. "There must be a Fidelius Charm. Dumbledore's probably the secret keeper, if he was the one who told you."

"Sounds handy. Well, shall we go inside?"

"Uh, yeah. Let's. Except we don't have a key. Maybe they're expecting us?"

Again, events seemed to anticipate their needs, and the door opened to reveal, "Professor Lupin!"

"Harry!" the Marauder said as he moved to usher Harry inside. "We've been so worried about you. Where on Earth have you been? And who is this?" he asked hurriedly.

"I would be Willow Rosenberg. I've been looking after Harry for the past… Well, just the past day, really. And I also just got a job at Hogwarts. Dumbledore sent me to bring Harry here. He suggested I stay here, too. It's good to meet you, Professor."

"Not here! Inside, both of you. Quickly! I'll get your trunk, Harry. Just hurry!"

Harry went in first, followed by Willow and then Lupin. The inside of the house was not what he was expecting. It was dark and gloomy and dusty and all kinds of unpleasant.

"Nice place," Willow said flippantly.

"Who's that? Who's there?" a familiar voice called.

"Sirius!" Harry cried out in joy as he rushed forward to embrace his godfather, who grabbed him in a bear hug.

"Harry! We were so worried about you! After you disappeared from Privet Drive, we were-"

"What? You knew I'd left? How did you know?"

"You don't think we've left you unguarded all this time, do you? Not with Voldemort back, surely. There's been a constant watch on your aunt and uncle's house, and when we got word that you'd left in a dark van which had disappeared… Well, you can imagine our worry."

"Wait! Stop! Hold the phone!" Willow said, taking a few strides forward. "So, you guys have all known that Harry was being seriously mistreated by his aunt and uncle, and you were keeping an eye on him all this time, and you never even let him know he wasn't totally alone? What kind of godfather are you? Shouldn't you have at least invited him to stay with you? Isn't Harry your responsibility?"

"Um, Willow," Harry said, trying to cut her off before she went too far.

"No, Harry, it's all right," Sirius said grimly. "Remus, I don't think we have to worry about this one. She reminds me of Lily, almost, what with her temper and her concern for Harry's well being."

"We'll see about that," Lupin said as he joined the small group. "This is, if she is to be believed, Professor Willow Rosenberg, who just got a job from Dumbledore. Miss Rosenberg, this is Sirius Black. He is Harry's godfather, who is wanted for thirteen murders that he is innocent of, and thus has unable to leave the confines of this house to seek out his godson."

"I _would_ get out of here if you lot would just let me stretch my legs once in a while," Black protested.

"Uh, yeah. Leg-stretching is good," Willow said. "But so is not going to jail. What with the Dementors and all of that."

"Don't remind me!" Sirius said sharply.

Harry took Willow's arm gently. "He broke out of there after being locked up with them for thirteen years, Willow."

The witch gasped in horror and looked at Sirius with newfound pity. "Oh, my Gods! I'm so sorry! I had no idea! And is there even anyone else here right now? Are you really here with so few people for company, after being in prison for so long? Are you eating right? You look really thin. I can go out and get some groceries and make something to eat, if you want. I'm an okay cook, and I feel really bad about being mean to you, and I want to make it up to you if I can, and I-"

"Does she even have lungs, Harry?" Sirius asked with a growing smirk.

"Good question," Harry said, grinning back.

"Easy, there," Lupin said, placing a hand on Willow's shoulder. "Breathe. Take it easy. I think it's safe to say that we're all friends here. I would like to know if you were the one who removed Harry from the Dursley residence, however. More importantly, I would like to know how you intended to protect him if Voldmort came looking for you."

Willow laughed. "I would love to see anyone, wizard, marine, whatever, just try to take our humble little castle. Which isn't a real castle, by the way. It's well-hidden, and well-fortified. We have an army stationed there that's all about tackling evil, so Harry was quite well-protected."

"You have an army at your disposal, you say?" Lupin asked, clearly doubtful. "Were you in the United States? Are you with their Auror department?"

"Nope! Not with any sort of government. But our little center is kind of a boarding school, kind of a military school, kind of a barracks. Kind of a lot of things, really. And I'd appreciate it, Harry, if you'd let me handle the specifics of where you were. No offense, but that knowledge isn't as widely known in your world as I'd thought, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Did you say 'our world?'" Sirius asked. "Are you saying you're a Muggle?"

"She's not," Harry said. "She's a witch. The goblins at Gringotts – the branch that we visited, anyway – said that she was incredibly powerful. And from what I've seen and heard, I believe them."

"Thank you, Harry," Willow said, beaming. "And could you try not to use that word, Mr. Black? It's kind of insulting."

"What? I never insulted you!" Sirius said a bit hotly. "And please don't ever call me 'Mr. Black.' I'm just Sirius, if you please."

"Oh. Well, you wizards seem to look down on non-magical folk. You have your own special name for them. You walk up to a person and call them a Muggle, they'll have no idea what you're talking about. All they'll know is that you're calling them a name for something distinctly not-normal, and that's going to be seen as an insult. Not to mention the whole 'Squib' thing. That's definitely an insult. It's even a word on our dictionary. A squib is a kind of mini-explosive meant for show, and 'damp squib' – based on said mini-bomb getting wet – is used to refer to anything that fails to live up to expectations. Seeing my reasons for indignation yet?"

Sirius was staring slack-jawed at Willow, while Remus smiled appreciatively. "What subject are you teaching?" Sirius finally asked. "I never took Muggle Studies – and yes, that's what the subject is called – but you'd be a hell of a teacher there."

Harry chuckled. "Uh, no. She has your old job, Professor Lupin."

"Oh, dear! And you can call me Remus, Harry! I'm no longer your Professor, and you're a Marauder by blood. As far as I'm concerned, you and Sirius are both family."

"Amen!" Sirius echoed.

Harry felt his face flush. "Thank you. Really, thank you. But, yeah. Willow's got the Defense job. Apparently, she got it by doing a number on Snape."

That got both Remus and Sirius laughing like madmen. "That must have been brilliant. What did you do to him, Miss Rosenberg?"

"Please, call me Willow," she said, blushing, before she went into a brief, detailed recounting of her 'duel' with Snape and her speech to Dumbledore about her curriculum.

Lupin looked concerned, surprisingly. "You should be careful, Willow," he warned her. "Your methods sound highly unorthodox, and that may ruffle some feathers. The Board of Governors may not take kindly to such a curriculum. And if the Ministry interferes…"

Willow simply smirked. "I'd love to see them try. If you think I was being hard on Snape in that story, if I was making a special effort to impress, you'd be wrong. That was almost nothing. If the Ministry is as incompetent as I've been led to believe, and if it continues to actively hinder the fight against Voldemort, I may need you to hold me back from taking out the whole bunch of them."

Sirius laughed merrily at Willow's fighting spirit until Remus tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to Willow's face, which was set in a serious look. "You're not joking, are you?"

"Nope. Not joking. I've learned that some rules only keep the job from getting done, and those rules need to be broken. Sometimes those rules are called laws. We can be sure that Voldemort won't care about such things, so we need to be willing to break the rules when we need to, and to use them all the more when it helps us. Are you all with me so far?"

"So far, yes," Remus said thoughtfully. "But it is quite early in the morning, and I think that some of us could use some sleep. Tomorrow morning, we may take you up on your offer to cook for us, Willow."

"No problem!" the red-haired witch said brightly. "Based on prior experience, I think we need to go shopping for a waffle iron."

* * *

><p>The next morning saw the arrival of Ron's owl, Errol, who collapsed in Sirius's lap at the breakfast table. "Hey, Harry!" his godfather called out. "Your friend wants me not to worry about you, and he says that you're with some Council over in the States. What do you want me to tell him?"<p>

"You won't need to write back," Lupin said as he came down the stairs, greeting Willow with a small wave. "The Weasleys are on their way, along with Hermione Granger. They should be here any minute."

"That's great!" Willow said as she saw to the pancakes she was cooking. Harry was still asleep, which was understandable given the two rapid jumps from Britain to DC and back again. "I've been looking forward to meeting the Weasleys. I'm actually a distant relative, or so I hear."

"Are you, really?" Lupin asked. "I don't recall Molly or Arthur mentioning any Rosenbergs in their family. Or any Americans, for that matter."

Willow snorted and resumed her cooking. "Sounds like Uncle Lance was right. She really doesn't care."

"Who're you talking about?" Sirius asked.

Willow plopped some pancakes onto the scrawny man's plate. He needed to eat up. Lupin wasn't looking too good, either, come to think of it. "My dad's brother-in-law is a cousin of Molly Weasley. He lives in Washington, but he rarely hears from her. Didn't even get an invite to her wedding, he said."

"I find that hard to believe," Lupin said breathlessly. "Molly Weasley is one of the kindest, most generous souls I know. To treat her own kin like that, it goes against her nature."

Willow simply put her Resolve Face on and kept it there as she went to make some more pancakes for the man she strongly suspected was a werewolf. She didn't want to talk about Uncle Lance all of a sudden. It felt too much like talking about both him and the Weasleys behind their backs. "Maybe," she conceded. "I'd like to meet her, if only to meet magical relatives I didn't know I had. And Professor Lupin?"

"Oh, please call me 'Remus.' What can I do for you, Willow?"

"Um, it's just that you look a bit thin. Like, almost as thin as Sirius, and you haven't been to prison, have you?"

Remus started to shift about uncomfortably, and Sirius put his fork and knife down to stare at Willow. "You don't understand," Sirius said. "There are certain laws, and society has certain taboos, you see. Remus is a gentleman and a scholar, and a good man all around. It's just that-"

"Are you trying to tell me," Willow said, suddenly angry, "that your society _persecutes_ werewolves? That's just sick!"

Remus wheeled on her. "You knew? How? Did Harry-"

"Harry didn't tell me anything about either of you. I just know how to recognize werewolves. I used to date one. He was really sweet, even if he did go all wolfy for a little bit each month. We worked around it, kept him from hurting anyone, and lived as normally as we could. Why would your society take victims and hurt them even further? That's kinda not making much sense to me."

"Fear," Remus said sadly. "Our society is run by an upper class which prides itself on purity of blood. That is to say, pureblooded wizards. Muggles – sorry, non-magical people – are an object of pity for some, and vermin to others. Wizards born form non-magical families are treated with distrust and hatred by purists. And werewolves are classified as 'part-humans,' which also rankles those obsessed with purity. The board is already quite well set for Voldemort to take power, should he make a move. His creed is a purist one taken to its most extreme."

"Well, fuck." Willow really didn't know how else to put it. "Your world is led by friggin' Nazis. Just great! Remind me to include even more non-magical lessons in my classes than I had originally intended. Your world sounds a bit rotten, to be blunt, and as long as I have the chance, I am going to show the next generation of wizards just how powerful mere _Muggles_ can be if they put their minds to it."

The sound of a door opening could be heard, and Remus, Sirius, and Willow moved to greet the newcomers.

"Molly! Arthur! Welcome, welcome! Please, make yourselves at home!" Sirius said to the red-haired couple, behind which trailed three boys and two girls, only one of which had hair that wasn't a brilliant shade of red. Willow guessed that the girl with the bushy brown hair was Harry's friend, Hermione.

A pair of drapes suddenly burst to the side to reveal a portrait of an ugly-looking woman who started shrieking from her picture frame. "Filth! Mudbloods and blood-traitors! Besmirching the house of my fathers!"

"Shut UP, you old hag!" Sirius shouted as he struggled to close the drapes. "Sorry. Meet my mum. One of those purists Remus was telling you about. Can't get the bloody thing down, what with the Permanent Sticking Charm. Give me a moment and I'll-"

"Get back," Willow commanded softly.

"What? Who is this?" the red-haired woman asked.

"Is she a relative, mum?" one of the boys, who looked to be one of a pair of identical twins, asked.

"Do we have a long-lost sister?" the other twin chimed in.

"And an American, at that."

"But if she isn't a relative…"

"Then who is she? Though it must be said…"

"…she gives redheads everywhere a good name."

"And what am I?" the red-haired girl asked.

"You're too young to be giving out good names," one twin answered.

"And you're our little sister," the other twin said.

"Who we love and appreciate very much," they said together at the younger girl's glare.

"That's enough, boys!" their father said. "I'm sorry. Arthur Weasley," he said, extending his hand. "This is my wife, Molly. The two twins are Fred and George, who are bickering with their sister, Ginny. And over there are my son Ron and our family friend, Hermione Granger." Willow was impressed with Arthur Weasley's babbling capabilities. It could be a redhead thing. "And you are?" he asked gently.

"Willow Rosenberg." She took his hand. "Good to meet you," she said more warmly than she had expected. Arthur, at least, seemed quite friendly. "Now, then, Sirius, may I try to handle this problem? You said the picture was stuck to the wall?"

"Yeah. Can't get it down. But by all means, have a go," he said, stepping out of the way.

"Thank you." Willow raised her arms and placed them together above her head. She then moved them and began to form a rectangle with her hands. As she did so, the wall began to crack and break, until when she brought her hands together again at the bottom, the section of wall made a loud crack.

Willow moved her hands backwards, and the entire section of wall floated outward, leaving a nice chunk of space where the portrait had been.

"Vanish," she canted, and the bit of wall and the picture blinked out of existence in a flash of white light. "Regenerate," she said, and the wall began to reform from the inside until it had fully healed into a perfectly plain, unadorned wall.

Willow looked to Sirius and smiled. "How's that?"

Sirius stared at her before falling to one knee and looking up into her eyes. "Will you marry me?"

"Get up, Padfoot," Remus said playfully. "And let's not stay in here, come on in! Willow's been making pancakes."

"Wicked!" Ron Weasley said with awe.

"And what, pray tell, has you so fascinated?" Hermione asked. "The awesome display of wandless magic or the prospect of pancakes?"

"Uh, both?" Ron said skeptically.

"Seconded!" the twins said in unison.

"That figures," Ginny said. "Where's Harry? Is he still in America?"

"No, he's upstairs, sleeping. Jet lag and such," Willow said. "Come on in! Sit down. Rest your feet."

The group made their way to the kitchen and did just that. Molly Weasley moved to the stovetop alongside Willow. "May I help?" she asked politely. "I know some spells that could make the cooking go a lot faster."

Willow pursed her lips involuntarily. "Go ahead," she said neutrally.

"Not to be rude," one twin said.

"But I can't help picking up a bit of tension in the air," the other finished.

"Is there a problem?" Arthur asked politely.

Willow sighed. "I hope not. But I do have a message for all Weasleys and Prewetts present. We have a common relative, and he's thinking of you, worried for you, and sad that he doesn't know you very well. He also wants me to look after you all as best I can," she said, gesturing to the children at the table.

"I wasn't aware we had any American relatives," Molly said, not stopping her cooking magic. "What is his or her name?"

Willow grimaced. "Lance Prewett. My dad's sister married him, and Harry and I just met with him yesterday. He's been following the news, and he's very worried about all of you."

Molly looked confused. "But how? Lance is a Squib. How can he possibly-"

"Don't. Even. Start," Willow said dangerously as she glared at Molly. "You give your very successful cousin too little credit. He may have been born without magic, but that doesn't mean he's lost all touch with your world. He's very aware of the danger Voldemort poses now that he's back," Willow said, noting the shudders that went around the room at the mention of Voldemort's name, "and he's very worried for you, and especially for your children, who he has never had the good fortune to meet. You'd do well to stay in touch with him a bit more often, I think."

Silence fell over the kitchen. Molly looked shocked, as did Sirius and Remus. The children looked rather taken aback as well, though they didn't look quite as stunned.

"Are you saying," the Hermione said to Molly, "that you cut off ties with a relative just because he's a Squib?"

"No!" Molly protested. "I just… We don't talk much, that's all. I mean, really, what would we have to say to each other?"

"You could start with why you didn't invite him to your wedding," Willow said coolly.

That got gasps out of all the kids. "Is that true, mum?" Ron asked softly.

"You've been hiding family from us?" the twins asked as one.

"Mum wouldn't do that!" the red-haired girl protested. "Would you?"

"No! Yes. I don't know!" Molly said, clearly confused and feeling defeated. "I suppose I never gave Lance much thought. He wasn't part of our world, so I didn't see the point, I guess."

"And that's a problem that seems to infect your entire world," Willow said harshly, her Resolve Face once again firmly in place. "I was raised without magic, and didn't even know it existed until I was fourteen. I never cast a spell until I was almost sixteen. I've always judged people for who they are, not what they are, and I have also been judged accordingly.

"Uncle Lance is a good man who cares for his family. He's a bit crotchety without his morning coffee, but who isn't? You don't need magic to be a good person, and we're all human here, aren't we? And even if we aren't all human, that's no reason not to treat each other equally. If I can remember a Vengeance Demon with some amount of fondness, then I'd like to think you can treat your own flesh and blood with the same respect you'd show anyone else. And now that I've made my point, I'm going to sit down and give you a chance to think and respond, because if I keep on talking, then this is never going to end. And I tend to babble on and on, and I'm doing that right now. Sorry. Being quiet now." So saying, Willow sat down at the table and made a display of pursing her lips together.

Molly blanched at Willow's verbal onslaught. Few people would dare to talk back to Molly Weasley like that, and if they would dare, then they almost never had a reason to do so. The matriarch of the clan looked from one face to another before finally falling into her husband's arms. "I've been a fool," she said through tears. "I had no idea he was watching out for us. Do you think he'll forgive me, Arthur? And am I really no better than You-Know-Who?"

"Don't say things like that, Molly!" Arthur answered quickly as he embraced his wife. "I learn more about Muggles every day at work, and one lesson I have to constantly remind myself is not to underestimate them. I suppose I've failed to bring that lesson home sufficiently. It's as much my fault as it is anyone's. Really, it's Wizarding society."

Willow decided to chime in. "I love my uncle very much. And I can tell you that he's been waiting for you for a long time. He's a little bitter, but he sees his family and he loves you all very much. He's sad that he hasn't been a larger part of your lives. He's not angry or anything else. If you allow him back in, then he'll be incredibly happy. And I think you'd get along well with my Aunt Irene. Harry seems to think you two are alike."

"Well," Molly said, regaining her composure, "Harry is a good judge of character, and if he's gotten to know Lance recently, then I'd best talk with him about that. But let's not wake him. The poor boy needs his rest."

"That he does," Arthur agreed. "So, Miss Rosenberg, how do you know Harry?"

"That's a bit of a story. But, we have time, and we have food. Sit down, and I'll get you all caught up."

Willow grinned mischievously. "And that's _Professor_ Rosenberg to all of you! So don't you forget it! I do need test subjects for detentions, after all. I'm looking at you two," she said, pointing out Fred and George.

The twins' faces paled, remembering her impressive use of magic in the hallway. But then they smiled. "We have a business proposition for you," they said as one, much to their mother's chagrin.

* * *

><p>Harry opened his eyes slowly, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of sleep. He had been having the most wonderful dream. He couldn't remember it very well now that he was awake, but he woke up feeling a distinct need to hold onto something, but he couldn't remember what.<p>

After changing into a fresh set of clothes, Harry descended the stairs to the smell of freshly made pancakes, only to be tackled by a bushy mane of brown hair as soon as he got to the bottom of the stairs.

"Harry! We were so worried about you! We got your letters, and of course we read up on the Council. It's been around for ages, and they supposedly work with really dangerous magical creatures called 'Slayers.' And you were staying with them! It must have been terrifying! Are you all right?"

"Let the man breathe, Hermione," Ron said from just behind her. "You doing all right, mate?"

"Yeah, I'm all right," Harry said, grinning. "So, you made it. I was wondering when I'd be seeing you. I was a bit worried, since I didn't get any letters from you all summer."

Ron and Hermione both looked at each other with guilty faces. "We wanted to write, Harry. We really did. But Dumbledore thought-"

"Dumbledore thought he knew best, right? He also thought it best to leave me alone with the Dursleys until I was eleven, and then every summer after that. At least in DC, the beatings served a purpose."

"What?" his two friends shouted at once.

"No, no!" Harry said quickly. "It was training. Physical training, I mean. A lot of dodging and running. But it was only for one day, unless I go back. And Willow said that we'd be doing some of that in our classes this year." He paused. "Wasn't there a painting there? With some drapes over it?"

Ron grinned while Hermione blushed. "Well, yes. There was," Hermione said. "Professor Rosenberg removed it. And she didn't even use a wand!"

"And then she told us about how she got the job!" Ron said with manic glee. "Tossing Snape around! Oh, I wish I could have been there."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, me too. But I smell pancakes! I'm starving. Let's go."

The three of them wandered into the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley promptly smothered Harry in a warm hug. "Oh, Harry! It's so good to see you! You had us all so worried. But you're here now, and I hear you've met a certain second cousin of mine."

Harry felt his face go red. "Uh, yeah. Did Willow say-"

"She said just enough, Harry, for me to know that I would like to talk with you about how my cousin is doing."

"That'd be great," Harry said. "But first, I don't suppose I could get some breakfast?"

"Oh! Of course, how foolish of me! Let me serve you a plate."

"Harry! Good morning!" Sirius said. "Remus went out to pick up a few things. You doing all right?"

"Yeah, thanks, Sirius. You?"

"Not bad. I need your opinion to settle a dispute. Namely, who makes the better pancakes: Molly or Willow?"

"Is it even a contest?" Harry asked with surprise. Mrs. Weasley was one of the best cooks in the world.

"I've had some time to hone my skills," Willow said from the stovetop. "My parents weren't around much, so I learned quickly to fend for myself."

"Oh, you poor dear! What happened to them?" Molly asked kindly.

"Nothing, really," Willow said casually. "They were just busy with work, traveling all over to give lectures and such. I pretty much raised myself. But I had Buffy and Xander and… Well, there was Jesse for a while. Gods, I miss him."

Harry didn't know who Jesse was, but he knew better than to ask right now. Willow looked sensitive about it. Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley didn't press it either.

"Well, my dear, let's just get Harry some breakfast, and then you can see if my humble cooking can compare to your carefully honed skills."

Willow laughed. "Sounds good. You sleep okay, Harry?"

"Yeah," he said. "But I had this dream that was really good. I had to hold onto something, but I can't remember what it was. I had to hold onto…" He thought for a moment, and then it came to him. "Faith! I had to hold onto my faith!" His face scrunched up in surprise. "What does that mean?"

Willow failed to restrain her laughter. "It means, Harry, that you've got a very bad disease with no easy cure."

"What?" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "Harry's sick? Willow, tell me, what's going on?"

Harry watched with confusion as Willow whispered something into Mrs. Weasley's ear, which caused the older woman to break into a very silly grin.

"Ah, I see. Well, Harry, sit down, and we'll get you some breakfast. Take your mind off of things."

"What are they talking about, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Is everything all right?"

Harry shook his head, feeling totally lost. "I have absolutely no idea."


	7. A New School Year

**Chapter Seven: A New School Year**

* * *

><p>It had been a very long couple of months for Harry since Willow – <em>Professor Rosenberg, I should be saying<em>– had whisked him away from Privet Drive. The new teacher had been providing all of them, but especially Harry, Remus, and Sirius, with Muggle-made nutritional drinks and supplements to promote muscle growth. He'd also been visited by Mr. Giles on occasion, usually in the company of a Slayer or two to test his reflexes.

Ron and Hermione tended to stay away from these lessons, and Harry had been meaning to talk to them about that. For some reason, Harry got the idea that Hermione in particular didn't trust anyone from the Council, including Professor Rosenberg.

Mrs. Weasley had not been quite as gracious about Willow's criticism of her as Harry had initially hoped. She had told the younger witch that while she was appreciative of her thoughtfulness for Lance, she felt that Willow was sticking her nose where it didn't belong.

What followed was a shouting match for the ages, with Professor Rosenberg taking the stance that Lance was her family just as much as he was Mrs. Weasley's, and Ron's mum had shouted back that Willow was too young to talk back to her about familial responsibilities. That had then led into an extended tirade about growing up in Sunnydale, which shocked Mrs. Weasley into silence. Being a Sunnydale survivor gave Professor Rosenberg some credit in almost everyone's eyes, and Molly Weasley was no exception to that effect.

In the end, a truce had been called, with both sides agreeing to find common ground for family's sake rather than continue arguing. Ginny ended up winning a few galleons from Ron, Fred, and George. The twins who had each bet that their mum would come out on top, Ron had bet on Professor Rosenberg – earning him some glares from Hermione – while Ginny had taken long odds on a draw.

Two days before the start of term, Harry found himself in his room, talking with Ron and Hermione about what the latter had learned about the Council.

"It's really fascinating, though there are a lot of gaps and clear omissions. But from what I can tell, a single girl, usually an adolescent, was chosen to fight against vampires, demons, and other dark creatures. I'm not sure how these girls were chosen, but there's no record of a witch becoming a Slayer, and a new one is only called when the old one has died. So it's clear that whatever this group claiming to be the Watcher's Council is, they're obviously something else entirely."

"How do you figure, Hermione?" Ron asked, not sounding all that interested.

"Well, isn't it obvious? 'One girl in all the world' is a Slayer. Only one at a time. And you've been training with several different people, all claiming to be Slayers, Harry. They're probably just a group trying to scam you somehow. Trying to take advantage of your fame. Or they could be in league with You-Know-Who."

"No, Hermione, you've got it all wrong," Harry protested. "I don't know how there's more than one Slayer, but there is. There are a LOT of them. And if they wanted to hurt me or take advantage of me, they wouldn't be training me to fight better."

"He's got a point, Hermione. Maybe something happened and changed the rules," Ron said neutrally.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't see how that's possible. Granted, the source of Slayer power is a mystery, and if they're working with other wandless witches and wizards, then they may have magic that we don't know about. But whoever these people are, they survived Sunnydale, which is a point in their favor."

"Remind me again what makes Sunnydale so special?" Ron asked.

"Sunnydale," Hermione explained patiently, as if to a small child, "was built on top of some sort of mystical convergence of energy. Like Hogwarts, only darker, more evil energy. Monsters and dark creatures were drawn there like magnets. At least, until the town became a giant crater."

"It's called a Hellmouth," Harry said. "And there are at least two others. One in Cleveland, and another in Washington DC."

Hermione gasped. "I thought Hellmouths were just legends! If they're real, and if Professor Rosenberg grew up on one… Harry, she's dangerous. That kind of energy taints magic. She's probably done terrible things, and I can't even imagine what-"

"Hermione!" Harry shouted. "Just stop, okay? Look, I've spent time with her. Gotten to know her. She's made mistakes. Some big mistakes. But she's moved past them and is making an effort to do good. And she's going to be teaching us things that I doubt any Ministry teacher would allow."

"And that's another point for worry!" Hermione protested. "Hellmouths can supposedly interfere with a lot of spells, so have done anything over there and gone unnoticed by the Ministry. And as for her assigned textbooks..."

"What? You mean that she didn't assign any?" Ron said brightly. "What's so bad about that?"

"We're going to be getting them, Ron! But she's going to be handing them out with no warning or notice as to what we'll be needing to study! I'm telling you, she's dangerous!"

"And I'm telling you," Harry said, "that you're overreacting, Hermione. Just let it go, okay? We'll see soon enough once term starts. And if she did beat up Snape, then she can't be all that bad."

To Harry's surprise, Hermione smiled. "There is that," she conceded.

* * *

><p>It was morning on September 1st, and Willow was all set for her journey to Hogwarts. She'd triple-checked to make sure that she was fully packed, and she'd done some extra research to get all the necessary books for all of her students in each of seven years, and she'd caught up on the recent history of Hogwarts, of Harry Potter, and of the goings-on surrounding related people and things.<p>

Willow had left for King's Cross station early while Harry and the others were still asleep. She didn't want to arrive with any students and seem like she was showing favoritism. She had made a conscious decision to wear a black turtleneck sweater, black jeans, and black running shoes instead of more traditional wizard clothing. Function would be more important than form for her class, and robes were not well-suited for combat.

She'd been practicing with her wand, and found it a bit cumbersome at first, but it soon became second nature to her. Wandless magic was easier for her, but she felt competent enough to teach both styles to those that were suited to either one. Her wand was now hidden away in a pocket in a navy-blue denim jacket, and her belongings had been shrunken down to fit in her pants pocket.

She'd found her way onto Platform 9 ¾ easily enough, and was fascinated by the scene on the other side. A few students and their families had also arrived early, and Willow got a few glances from some curious students and parents. Some younger students didn't pay her much mind, but a few older students and their families seemed unsure if she was an older student or a very young professor or some sort of hired help. Willow smiled, liking the feeling. _That's me. Willow Rosenberg, Enigma Extraordinaire!_

While she waited, Willow decided to stand on the non-magical side of the station and help students and their families get onto the platform if they were having difficulties. By the time 10:30 came around, Willow moved onto the platform itself and helped some of the students move their luggage onto the train.

At a quarter to eleven, Willow boarded the train and looked for an empty compartment where she could situate herself until the train got underway. She wasn't sure if she'd wander the train and get to know the students or if she'd wait until classes started to assess her charges. She didn't want to develop favorites before term started, but she didn't want to go in blind, either.

As the whistle blew, and the Hogwarts Express began to depart, her compartment door opened to reveal three boys who looked to be about Harry's age. "Oh. Sorry. We thought this compartment was empty," one of them said.

Willow smiled gently. "That's okay. I don't mind the company. That is, unless you mind the company. I'm sort of new, and if you don't want to talk to a complete stranger, I'd understand. But I certainly wouldn't mind getting to know you all."

The boys all smiled and sat down with her. "Thanks. It's getting a bit hectic out there. I'm Justin Finch-Fletchley," one of the boys said.

"I'm Ernie. Ernie Macmillan," another boy said. "And this is Zacharias Smith."

"A pleasure to meet you all. I'm Willow Rosenberg. Are you guys all housemates?"

"Sure are!" Zacharias Smith said proudly. "Hufflepuffs until the end!"

"Hufflepuff," Willow repeated. "That's the house that values loyalty and fairness, right?"

"That it is," Ernie Macmillan said with equal pride. "Good, strong qualities. It's sad how few people care about such things. Sure, Gryffindors are all noble and brave, and Ravenclaws are the supposed brains of the school, but nobody really takes time to recognize Hufflepuff. Except for Cedric," he said softly.

"Rest his soul," Justin said equally softly.

Willow smiled. "I don't think fairness and loyalty are things to be taken lightly at all. They may not stand out quite as much, but they're incredibly important. But what about Slytherin House? How do they overshadow you?"

"Oh, they don't count," Zacharias said quickly. "Evil gits, the lot of them. No good witch or wizard ever came out of that house."

"Is that so?" Willow asked. "Why is that the case?"

"Well," Ernie said, "Slytherins are all about cunning and ambition, not to mention purity of blood. Leads them towards a ruthless bent, if you know what I mean."

Willow's face became stern. "That's no reason to hate the entire house. Take me for example. I was the runt of my class for a long time. I lived in everyone's shadow, and I would have done anything to escape that position. I yearned for glory, and I worked hard to achieve it. But I didn't do bad stuff to get where I am now. I helped people, and I let my ambition drive me forward in that.

"And," Willow added wistfully, "I fell in love with the sweetest soul I could have ever hoped to meet. Kind, loyal, gentle to a fault. Probably would have been a Hufflepuff."

Justin whistled lowly. "A Slytherin and a Hufflepuff? I don't see that happening here. Maybe in America, but not here. What happened to your boyfriend? Why isn't he here?"

Willow laughed, but her eyes were sad. "Not a boy. Her name was Tara, and she died."

"Oh," all three boys said at once. "I'm sorry," they said in unison.

"Really, we didn't know," Zacharias said.

"It's okay, really. It's in the past, and I'm here now. And I carry a bit of her with me all the time, wherever I go. Whenever my ambition threatens to get the better of me and take me too far, I think of Tara, and I remember her kindness, and that keeps me rooted in reality. So don't ever take fairness and loyalty for granted. Unsung heroes may not get their glory, but if you're half the Hufflepuffs you make yourself out to be, you won't care as much for glory as you will for doing the right thing."

Ernie made a show of clapping his hands. "Thank you, Willow. Really, thank you. It's not often that anyone really appreciates anyone from Hufflepuff, let alone the house as a whole."

Willow smiled. "Glad to be of help. But don't get used to calling me 'Willow.'"

"Why not?" Zacharias said a bit hotly. "Something wrong with your name?"

"Nope," Willow said brightly. "Just that you don't want to be calling one of your teachers by her first name."

"What? You're joking," Zacharias blurted out.

"No, I am not," Willow said, the warmth draining from her face and her voice. "I'm glad to talk with students and get to know them, but I'm here for the very serious business of teaching you how to defend yourselves. I don't take that lightly, and neither should you."

"Zach, take it easy," Justin said to his housemate. "Sorry about that, Professor. It's just that you look a lot younger than we'd expect a professor to be, and you were really casual with us and… Well, you gave us words of encouragement. We're not too used to that, I guess, unless it's from Professor Sprout. Our Head of House," he said to clarify.

"I see. Well, we have a long train ride ahead of us, and I'm not all that familiar with current events, so maybe you could help me to get caught up?"

"Yeah, we could do that," Ernie said. "But Zach here is probably going to go on and on about Quidditch."

Willow snickered. "Right, you all really do fly around on brooms, don't you? I'd be up for learning more about that."

Justin and Ernie groaned as Zacharias looked smug in victory.

The next few hours passed quickly as the three students talked with their new Professor and told her about their past few years at Hogwarts. Ernie had to patrol the corridors for a while, as he was a prefect, but he came back often enough to contribute. For her part, Willow told the three British boys stories about the United States that were new to them.

As the sun began to set, while Ernie was out patrolling the corridors, the compartment door opened to reveal a pale-haired boy with a badge like Ernie's, only green instead of yellow, flanked by two large masses that bore a passing resemblance to human beings. The boy in the center actually looked a bit like Spike, assuming he was a kid wearing a silly-looking robe.

"Hello there," Willow said brightly. "May we help you?"

"Well, let's see," the pale-haired boy drawled, and Willow immediately regretted ever comparing him to Spike. "You're wearing Muggle clothing so close to Hogsmeade, and you're not from around here, given your accent, which makes me think you're a stowaway. And I'm a prefect, which means that you have to start showing a bit more respect or else… What's so funny?"

Willow couldn't help herself, and she started laughing uncontrollably. "Oh, Gods! You really are full of yourself, aren't you? Wow! I have no idea who you think you are, but you're a total idiot, you know that? I mean, if you want to abuse your authority, then at least be a little less obvious about it. And approaching a complete stranger with a superior attitude… You're just begging to have your ass handed to you, kid. I almost feel sorry for you."

The pale-haired boy was stunned into silence. "Who the Hell are you?" he asked, unable to say anything else.

"That," Justin said, trying to keep from laughing himself, "would be Professor Willow Rosenberg. And she actually had good things to say about Slytherin House, you know. But now that she's met you…"

"Wait a minute," Willow said. "You are the best male student Slytherin had to offer for the prefect's post? You seem to have mistaken arrogance for ambition. Best see to that and be patient when stalking your prey. You're acting brash and brazenly, as if you've won before you've started. Not the kind of thing a cunning Slytherin should be displaying if he's proud of his house. Are we clear, Mister…?"

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Perhaps you've heard of me? Or maybe my father, Lucius Malfoy?" the boy said with what dignity he could still muster.

"Hm, the names do sound familiar," Willow said honestly, recalling that this boy's father was a Death Eater. "Thank you for the information. Move along now."

The Slytherin prefect simply blinked. "What?"

"I said move along. Go away. Vamoose. Skedaddle. Get out of here. What part of this don't you understand, Mister Malfoy? And please, take your two henchmen with you." It was painfully obvious that they were nothing more than cronies, but Willow still felt a pang of guilt for insulting the silent students.

Malfoy looked as though he'd been slapped across the face. "My apologies, _Professor,"_he said, drawing out the last word for maximum sarcastic effect before leaving the area.

Justin and Zacharias looked at each other silently for a moment before exploding into thanks and compliments and expressions of awe at Willow's ability to stand up to Malfoy.

"Really, he just needed to be put in his place. I can handle people like him, don't you worry. I'd be more concerned about his father, considering what I've heard."

"What have you heard about Lucius Malfoy?" Justin asked a bit nervously.

"That he's a Death Eater," Willow said simply. "That he was present shortly after Voldemort was revived, and that he tried to covertly open the Chamber of Secrets about two years ago by passing off a dangerous artifact to an innocent student. Did I miss something?"

"Er, well," Zacharias said, as if unsure of what to say.

"Go on," Willow said. "Speak your mind. I won't bite, I promise."

"Well, it's just that… You don't believe Potter about You-Know-Who. Do you?"

Willow sighed. They'd been reading the Daily Prophet, or their parents had. "I do believe it. There was a powerful ritual used to revive Voldemort, and I could sense it all the way on the other side of the ocean. It took a little while, but I figured out the details, and Harry's story filled in the blanks. I may be younger than your other teachers, but don't think I'm inexperienced.

"I've fought against evils that no person should have to face, and I've survived horrors that would give most people nightmares. I've had to live with nightmares while awake and asleep for most of my life. And when I see signs that a powerful murderer is getting ready to kill again, don't you dare think I take that lightly. Do you understand me, Mister Smith?"

The student paled and recoiled in his seat. It was obvious that Willow had truly just gone from a friend to his teacher in the span of a few seconds. "Y-yes. I understand. It's just… The Ministry would tell us if he was back!"

"Why would they?" Willow shot back. "The Ministry is full of people who are paid a lot of money to keep silent about such things. You know that Lucius Malfoy is rich, right? So are a lot of old pureblood families. You know, the kinds of families that support Voldemort," she said, ignoring the shudders at the mention of the name. "If the Ministry can take money from 'upstanding citizens' while getting to pretend that they don't have anything to worry about, they're going to be stupid and do just that. Do you follow?"

Zacharias seemed to be struggling to find a response, but Justin nodded. "Yeah, I think I get what you're trying to say, Professor. And please don't ever let me make you angry. Detention with you would probably be…" Justin trailed off as he realized how closely he was speaking with a Professor.

"Don't worry. You haven't seen me angry yet. If I do get angry, you will know it without a doubt. I'm just dedicated and focused. And I don't intend to let anyone, be they from the Ministry or anywhere else, stand in the way of me getting you all ready to fight for your lives. That is my number one priority: keeping you all alive for as long as possible."

Silence greeted that statement. A moment later Ernie came back and took his seat. "Sorry I was away for so long. What'd I miss?"

Willow looked at the Hufflepuff prefect and smiled gently. "Nothing, Ernie. Are we almost there?"

"Yup! About another half hour or so. Might want to throw a cloak on, though. It's probably a lot colder than it is in here."

"I can protect myself from the elements, but I appreciate the thought," Willow said kindly.

The next half hour passed in silence, and the three Hufflepuffs exited the compartment once the train came to a stop at Hogsmeade Station.

* * *

><p>Willow exited the train shortly afterwards, walking a short distance until she saw a flock of coaches, each drawn by creatures that Willow recognized as thestrals. Willow lamented that she could see the creatures, which only appeared to those who had seen death, but she did appreciate their alien looks as something unique and wonderful.<p>

Once she boarded a coach, it took off without waiting for any others. She noticed the student-coaches traveled in a slightly different direction from her own, and Willow found herself at a side entrance to the Great Hall.

Exiting the coach, Willow entered the castle to find herself right at the staff table. She made her way to a seat near the left end that was labeled 'Prof. Rosenberg' and sat down. She recognized the small professor with the squeaky voice and the sallow-faced man, Snape. Dumbledore was unmistakable, and McGonagall was going to the Entrance Hall to fetch the first years, or so Willow guessed. The large man with the great bushy beard was nowhere to be seen.

There were a number of other Professors that Willow didn't recognize, but one in particular stood out. She wore a pink cardigan and had a bow in her hair, and Willow was suddenly afraid. The woman looked like a toad, which was too close to a frog for her tastes.

The older students took their seats at four long tables, presumably one for each house, while McGonagall entered from the side with the first years who had yet to be sorted.

Professor McGonagall placed an ancient-looking pointed hat on a stool in the center of the room, and it began to sing…

_"In times of old when I was new  
>And Hogwarts barely started<br>The founders of our noble school  
>Thought never to be parted:<br>United by a common goal,  
>They had the selfsame yearning,<br>To make the world's best magic school  
>And pass along their learning.<br>'Together we will build and teach!'  
>The four good friends decided<br>And never did they dream that they  
>Might someday be divided,<br>For were there such friends anywhere  
>As Slytherin and Gryffindor?<br>Unless it was the other pair  
>Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?<br>So how could it have gone so wrong?  
>How could such friendships fail?<br>Why, I was there and so can tell  
>The whole sad, sorry tale.<br>Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those  
>Whose ancestry is purest.'<br>Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose  
>Intelligence is surest.'<br>Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those  
>With brave deeds to their name,'<br>Said Hufflepuff, 'I'll teach the lot,  
>And treat them just the same.'<br>These differences caused little strife  
>When first they came to light,<br>For each of the four founders had  
>A House in which they might<br>Take only those they wanted, so,  
>For instance, Slytherin<br>Took only pure-blood wizards  
>Of great cunning, just like him,<br>And only those of sharpest mind  
>Were taught by Ravenclaw<br>While the bravest and the boldest  
>Went to daring Gryffindor.<br>Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,  
>And taught them all she knew,<br>Thus the Houses and their founders  
>Retained friendships firm and true.<br>So Hogwarts worked in harmony  
>For several happy years,<br>But then discord crept among us  
>Feeding on our faults and fears.<br>The Houses that, like pillars four,  
>Had once held up our school,<br>Now turned upon each other and,  
>Divided sought to rule.<br>And for a while, it seemed the school  
>Must meet an early end,<br>What with dueling and with fighting  
>And the clash of friend on friend<br>And at last there came a morning  
>When old Slytherin departed<br>And though the fighting then died out  
>He left us quite downhearted.<br>And never since the founders four  
>Were whittled down to three<br>Have the Houses been united  
>As they once were meant to be.<br>And now the Sorting Hat is here  
>And you all know the score:<br>I sort you into Houses  
>Because that is what I'm for,<br>But this year I'll go further,  
>Listen closely to my song:<br>Though condemned I am to split you  
>Still I worry that it's wrong,<br>Though I must fulfill my duty  
>And must quarter every year<br>Still I wonder whether sorting  
>May not bring the end I fear.<br>Oh, know the perils, read the signs,  
>The warning history shows,<br>For our Hogwarts is in danger  
>From external, deadly foes.<br>And we must unite inside her  
>Or we'll crumble from within<br>I have told you, I have warned you. …  
>Let the Sorting now begin."<em>

Applause broke out amongst the students and faculty, along with a lot of mumbling, no doubt about the dark tidings that the Hat had mentioned. For her part, Willow made sure to applaud loudly and deliberately.

As she watched the students sorted into houses, Willow wondered why the school went along with the tradition at all, especially after the Sorting Hat's warnings. The system seemed to encourage rivalry and enmity, if the students on the train had been any indication. She made a mental note to make a special effort to treat all of her students equally, regardless of house.

Finally, all of the new students were sorted, and Dumbledore rose to his feet. "To our newcomers, welcome! To our old hands – welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

A round of laughter rippled through the room, and Willow was shocked to see an astounding volume of food appear in front of her. And then the smell of it all hit her. _So good. Must eat. Stop thinking. Get food, Rosenberg. Stick it in your mouth, chew, swallow, repeat._

And the food was truly amazing! Willow wondered if this food could even fill a Slayer's stomach, it was so good. She tried to keep her table manners about her, but she found herself reaching for a dish once or twice that broke decorum ever so slightly. Thankfully, none of the staff seemed inclined to give her a hard time. Not yet, at least.

At last, the food disappeared, and Dumbledore began to speak once again. He gave warnings about the Forbidden Forest, magic in the corridors, and banned items. Standard stuff really.

But then…

"We have two changes in staff this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Rosenberg, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was some scattered applause, mostly from the Hufflepuff table. Willow waved a bit and smiled at the thought of the students she'd met telling their housemates good things about her.

"In addition," Dumbledore went on, "Undersecretary Umbridge, of the Ministry of Magic, will be residing at Hogwarts as an observer on behalf of the Department of Magical Education." Almost no one applauded this time, save for Dumbledore himself.

"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on-"

He was interrupted by the Umbridge woman, who was clearing her throat as if wanting to address the student body. Dumbledore, graciously enough, allowed her to do so.

Willow only listened to the woman's speech to know her enemy, but it soon became clear that while the students were ignoring her simpering, falsely sweet words of welcome, there was a lot of hidden evil in her words. She was a spy and an agent of the status quo, Willow was certain. She'd have to make a supreme effort to keep from flaying the bitch.

Finally, the gathering ended, and Willow helped usher the students out of the Great Hall before finding her way to her office, which had a side room to double as her living space.

Collapsing on a soft bed, Willow tried to assimilate all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. "This is gonna be a long, long year."

* * *

><p>AN: Quotes for Dumbledore and the Sorting Hat are directly from 'The Sorting Hat's New Song' in HP Book Five.


	8. A Twig By Any Other Name

**Chapter Eight: A Twig By Any Other Name**

* * *

><p>Harry was already miserable as he walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast before his first day of classes. He'd had a bit of a bout with Seamus the previous night, since his housemate didn't believe him about Voldemort's return. It seemed that the Ministry and the Daily Prophet had done a very thorough job at trying to discredit both Dumbledore and Harry.<p>

It wasn't all bad, though. Dean was rather neutral about the whole thing, and Neville supported him wholeheartedly. And of course, Ron and Hermione were behind him one hundred percent. Still, the looks he received as he went down to breakfast made him feel rather sick.

There was a bit of discussion at the Gryffindor table about the two changes to the staff – or three if the Umbridge woman was to be counted – with most of the talk being about how someone so young-looking could be a credible teacher, referring to Professor Rosenberg. If Harry was honest with himself, he was a bit unsure as well. He'd only seen her use magic a very few times, and while they had all been impressive displays, he was sure that her worldview was going to rub a lot of people the wrong way.

For some reason, that thought made Harry smile.

After breakfast, it had been onto class. First had been Potions, which meant that Snape got to get in some early sneering and ridicule, while drilling into their heads that they would have to be truly exceptional to even stand a chance at taking the class after their OWL exams at the end of the year.

Divination had been its usual boring stint, what with Trelawney continuing to predict Harry's untimely demise. The Fates had informed her, it seemed, of what the standardized exams at the end of the year would cover. Harry wished he had followed Hermione's lead and quit the class.

After lunch was History of Magic, which was not much better than Divination, but at least Harry got to doze off and rest a bit. It really was impossible to pay attention in that class. Professor Binns had an uncanny ability to put any student in his vicinity to sleep with his boring lectures. The ghost teacher reminded Harry of an American celebrity named Ben Stein for some reason.

Finally, Harry walked into the classroom for Defense Against the Dark Arts, which he was regrettably taking alongside the Slytherins of his year. The thought of Malfoy causing trouble in this class did make Harry smile. Somehow, he didn't think that Willow would be nearly as tolerant of his rival's antics as too many other teachers were.

Harry and the rest of the Gryffindors congregated on the right side of the classroom, while the Slytherins quickly occupied the left. There was a single column of desks separating the two, which suited Harry just fine.

Professor Rosenberg was at her desk up front, going through some papers, and he noticed a few stacks of very thick books piled up beside her. Any hopes for an easy year seemed to be quickly zooming out the window. Wearing the same Muggle clothing that she'd worn to the Welcome Feast yesterday, she sipped a bit at a mug of some steaming liquid that Harry guessed was coffee. Memories of Lance Prewett warning her away from the stuff came to mind.

The bell rang, and Professor Rosenberg stood up. "All right. Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'll take attendance in a little bit, but first I want to introduce myself and get you all familiar with how this class is gonna be handled this year. I get that you've had a different teacher here every single year that you've been at Hogwarts, so you've probably been exposed to a lot of different teaching styles.

"Thankfully, however, it seems as though your last two Professors in this subject knew what they were doing. Well, Moody turned out to be an impostor, but he had everyone fooled into believing he was the real deal. And from all that I've heard, you learned some valuable things from him last year, even if he was a bit cuckoo."

Rosenberg's strange choice of words, along with her distinctly American accent, caused some snickering from the Slytherin side of the room. Harry felt his hackles rise, but the teacher didn't seem to notice. Or if she did, she just didn't care.

"So, here I am. My name is Willow Rosenberg, and I'll be your teacher this year. You may be wondering some things about me. 'Oh, look at the American girl with the silly accent who's barely old enough to be an adult and doesn't dress like the rest of us,'" she pretend-mocked herself in a childish voice. "I'm sure a lot of you are thinking stuff like that, am I right?"

Malfoy tried and failed to smother a laugh, and Harry glared at him silently.

Rosenberg took notice this time. "I take it you're one of those people who aren't convinced I'm capable, Mister Malfoy?"

Harry was surprised that Rosenberg already knew him by name, but Malfoy simply sneered. "You don't give the most favorable impressions, Professor, since you asked," he drawled.

To Harry's surprise, Willow smiled. "And why should I? You don't know me, and given this job's history, you'd expect only a fool to take the post. But enough about me. Let's get to you. I understand that you fifth years have some important exams coming up this year. That sound about right?"

Scattered grumbling greeted her question. "I can see you're not too happy about all the testing. Well, let me assure you that I intend to prepare you for your exams, but that's not really why I'm here."

"Well, why are you here, then?" Pansy Parkinson yapped shrilly.

Rosenberg's eyes narrowed. "I'm here to teach you to survive. As you may or may not be aware, a certain self-styled 'Dark Lord' has gotten himself revived, and is getting ready to spread murder and chaos across the country. And since your government seems to be content to play stupid regarding Voldemort's return," she said, pausing to wait for the shudders at the mention of his name to die down, "then it falls to me to prepare you all for what's to come outside of the safety of these walls."

That got the class's attention, Harry noticed with a bit of glee, as the Slytherins fell silent and collectively glared at Rosenberg, while some of the Gryffindors looked a bit uncertain themselves. Lavender Brown finally braved the silence. "But he's not back!" she protested. "The Daily Prophet would have said-"

"What?" Rosenberg challenged. "What would they have said? More importantly, why would they say it? Defending yourselves is not all about spells and jinxes and curses. A lot of it is about dissecting information, and separating truth from lies. I'll be teaching you about deception just as much as I'll be teaching you magic. I'll also be teaching you how to defend yourselves without magic, should you need to do so."

"Oh, great! This place really is going to the dogs!" Malfoy sneered. "This is a school for magic, Rosenberg. You're here to teach us magic, not Muggle parlor games."

"Wrong, Mister Malfoy. Five points from Slytherin for mocking my course aims, and another five for disrespecting me," the Professor said without raising her voice.

A collective gasp went up throughout the class. After having idiot teachers take points away from Gryffindor so many times while letting Slytherins get away with murder, it was more than a bit of a shock to have someone take points from Malfoy. But he had been asking for it, Harry figured.

"As I said, my job is to keep you alive, by any means necessary. Magic is a great tool, but there are other tools out there. Your wands are very handy tools, for instance. What can you all tell me about wands? That is to say, properties that all wands share in common?"

To nobody's surprise, Hermione's hand was the first in the air. A few others raised their hands tentatively, but none from the Slytherin side of the room.

"All right, then. Miss Granger, what can you tell me about wands?" Rosenberg asked with a small smile.

"Wands are focusing instruments for magical power made from woods with special properties, and containing a magical core, usually from a magical creature," Hermione said in one breath.

Rosenberg smiled. "That's one way of putting it, Miss Granger, but that's a textbook answer. No offense to the nobility of textbooks, but I'm looking for some more general characteristics. Anyone else care to give it a shot? What do wands have in common? Don't be shy. I won't bite your heads off."

The class seemed to collectively blink. Hermione's answers were always spot on. She was the brain of the class. But if the Professor was looking for something else…

"Yes, Mister Weasley? Do you have something?" Rosenberg asked Ron, who to Harry's surprise had started to raise his hand.

Ron's face flushed crimson. "Well, um, wands are like twigs, aren't they? Small, wooden, break easily."

The Slytherin side of the table started laughing uncontrollably, and Harry felt his own face redden. Ron's answer may have been nothing next to Hermione's, but even acknowledging that he had broken his wand in his second year was a brave thing for him to do. Not that the Slytherins were making it any easier.

When the Slytherins' laughter failed to die down, Rosenberg turned on them. "All right, that's enough of that! Gods, can't you people at least pretend to get along for an hour or so?" She then turned to Ron. "And those were all very good answers. Take ten points for Gryffindor."

"What?" Ron spat out in shock.

"Something wrong?" Rosenberg asked innocently.

"No," Ron said, recovering quickly. "It's just that… All I did was state the obvious."

"That you did," the teacher said with a smile. "And yet, when the obvious stares us in the face, too often we ignore it, or we fail to recognize what it means. So a wand is small, which means it is probably light-weight. It's also easy to conceal. You can get away with hiding a wand where another weapon or tool might stand out.

"Wands are made of wood, another excellent point. Keep them away from fire or any animals that feed on wood. Aside from termites, I hear that bowtruckles like to eat wand wood. Go on and impress Professor Grubbly-Plank with that little tidbit.

"And they are easily breakable. This is key. You need to be careful when storing your wand. It is a fragile instrument, and while it can channel your magic, it's still not much more than a twig with power. And if that twig snaps, then you're in for a world of hurt, especially if you're up against an armed enemy.

"But just because you don't have a wand doesn't mean you're defenseless. It is possible to do magic without a wand, but if you're not used to it, then it can be difficult. Let's say you have no wand, and you're facing an enemy who has one. What are some things you can do to keep yourself alive? Anyone?"

Harry thought about raising his hand, but he didn't. After all, the only time he'd faced any sort of real enemy other than Dudley's gang without a wand of his own was the basilisk, which didn't have hands to use a wand with. Other hands around him went up, seeming to be encouraged by Ron's simple answer as the one that the teacher wanted.

"Yes?" Rosenberg said, pointing to a Slytherin boy. Mister…"

"Nott. Theodore Nott. Well, if there's someone facing you with a wand, you'd get the hell out of there, wouldn't you?"

"You would run away?" Professor Rosenberg confirmed. "Good call. No sense in getting yourself killed if you can help it. There's a saying amongst non-magical folk that you might want to keep in mind. 'He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.' Sticking around where you're sure to get pummeled won't do you any good, and it won't get you any closer to beating your opponent. Five points to Slytherin. Good thinking, Mister Nott."

The Slytherins now looked at their teacher with looks that Harry hadn't seen before. If Harry was to guess, he'd say that they probably thought Rosenberg was a 'Gryffindor sympathizer' or something like that. But she seemed to take any good answer and give credit where it was due. Harry found himself liking her.

"Right. So, running away is one option. But let's say all you need to do is to distract your opponent long enough to interrupt their spell, but you don't have a wand. I need a volunteer now to help demonstrate a distinctly non-magical way of disrupting a spell. For those who are interested, it's a chance for points, as well as a free opportunity to try and hex the new teacher without fear of punishment. That is, unless you do a particularly nasty spell. What do you say? Any takers?"

* * *

><p>Willow was pleased to see that nearly the entire class had raised their hands. <em>You're a bloodthirsty little bunch, aren't ya? "<em>Okay, let's back up a step. I should probably take roll call first. I need to know your names if I'm gonna keep calling on you, y'know?" This remark got a few chuckles and a few sneers, which Willow tried to ignore as she took attendance and got a better feeling for the people in her class.

"Right, so back to the demonstration. How about you, Miss Davis? Care to be my guinea pig for a few House points?"

"Why not?" the Slytherin girl said proudly as she strutted up to the front of the classroom.

Willow picked up her mug of hot chocolate – coffee was a no-no save for extreme circumstances – and took a sip. "All right, then, Tracey. Try to use a spell on me. Any spell, doesn't matter, so long as it doesn't cause a lot of pain or potential serious injury. Do you understand?"

Tracey Davis smirked. "Sure do!" She aimed her wand. "_Confun-_"

The student got no further as Willow flung her lukewarm beverage into Tracey's face, causing her to blink and stutter and step backwards in shock. "What the hell?" she shouted indignantly as the rest of the class erupted in laughter.

"I stopped you from casting your spell, didn't I? And you were trying to confuse me, weren't you? Maybe get yourselves out of class early? Am I right, Miss Davis?"

The girl growled as she soaked in the chocolate liquid. "Yeah, you got that right," she grumbled.

Willow smiled. "Well, take ten points for helping me with my demonstration. And let me help you with that. Cleanse."

With her clothes suddenly dry and clean, Tracey Davis stared at her professor. "How did you do that?"

"Like I said, it's possible to do magic without a wand if you know how. And yes, I'll be testing you all individually to see if you have an aptitude for that sort of magic. I don't think I need to tell you what sort of advantages you gain from not needing a wand. Oh! And before I forget, that was some real clever thinking, trying to get the lesson cancelled early. Not model student behavior, mind you, but cunning and ambitious. Very Slytherin of you, so kudos there, Miss Davis."

The entire class was now staring silently at Professor Rosenberg. From what she'd gathered, Slytherin House's reputation didn't endear it to many people. "Well, go take your seat, and I'll hand out your textbooks, okay?"

Tracey nodded. "Yes, Professor," she said with what Willow hoped was newfound respect.

Smiling, Willow tapped a stack of books with her hand, sending one volume to rest on each desk. "These are your textbooks for the foreseeable future, but this is subject to change. I didn't assign any textbooks since, really, there are a lot of books out there with stuff worth teaching, but a lot of them only hit the nail on the head with a few things while getting other stuff completely wrong. And since it isn't really fair to expect you to spend your money on a bunch of different books that are each incomplete, I took bits and pieces from a bunch of them and put them all in one volume. Are you all with me so far?"

The class nodded and gave other verbal and non-verbal affirmations. "All right. Next item on the agenda is something that I forgot to put on your required class materials list, but I'll be providing for you free of charge, like the textbooks. That would be clothing. You may have noticed that I don't dress like the rest of you. Any of you have an idea why that is?"

"Are you Muggle-born?" Malfoy asked snidely.

Willow felt her hackles rise. She didn't like this guy. "I was raised by non-magical parents, yes. So I'm not used to robes. Which is a legitimate reason, Mister Malfoy. But there are other reasons. Yes, Harry?" she said, calling on The Boy Who Lived for the first time.

"Well," he began, "Robes can get in the way of a lot of stuff. They're big, and can snag on branches, and you can trip over them, and they give opponents a bigger target."

Willow smiled wide. "Couldn't have said it better myself! Take five points for Gryffindor! So, robes are highly unpractical things for combat. Stealthy clothes are a bit trickier, but survival clothes are a combination of light weight, room to store your weapons and other useful items, camouflage, a snug fit, and comfort. Yes, comfort," she added at some skeptical looks. "You ever try concentrating on something important while you're feeling physically miserable? Just don't get too comfortable, or else you get complacent.

"Now, then, you're probably going to run into not only dangerous wizards, but all sorts of nasty creatures and demons as well. Let me tell you a few stories about when I was your age, so that you have an idea of what's waiting out there for you. My story starts in a small town called Sunnydale. You all might want to start taking notes, by the way."

* * *

><p>The next seventy-five minutes flew by in a blur as Professor Rosenberg shared her experiences in Sunnydale with the class. Harry found himself too transfixed by the words coming out of her mouth to take notes. He feared that if he stopped long enough to write something down, he'd miss a crucial detail because his quill was too loud.<p>

The lesson had included a wide variety of threats, from everyday vampires – which on their own were dangerous enough – to gypsy curses, demonic cults, the dangers of 'Will Be Done' spells, and even some forays into Muggle culture. One such lecture included a demon that had temporarily resided in cyberspace, prompting a few questions about the nature of the internet.

Professor Rosenberg had also stressed that physical exertion played a large role in defense a lot of the time, and Harry's personal experience told him that she was not wrong. A great deal of her experiences involved running away, aiming a wooden stake, and pushing it hard enough to penetrate the flesh of a vampire. And then she emphasized running again, both in pursuit and in flight. It seemed to be a crucial aspect of defense in her eyes.

By the time the bell rang, Rosenberg was finishing up a story about an alternate universe that might or might not have had shrimp in it, whatever that meant. "And, we're done for today!" she said as the class began to pack up. "Be sure to read the first three chapters of your textbook for next class, and familiarize yourself with the combat and stealth tactics contained therein. Next lesson will be a more practical one, and I'll post a notice soon letting you know where we'll be meeting."

Harry packed up his things and headed out of the classroom towards the Great Hall for dinner, listening to the animated chatter amongst the other students in the class.

"Do you really believe all of that?"

"It does sound kind of out there."

"She's totally making some of that stuff up. I mean, why are we even talking about the Muggle world at all?"

"I never thought of using a cup of coffee to stop an attack. That was kind of cool."

"No, it wasn't! And I think it was hot chocolate, anyway."

"Did you get burned? Or did she heal you when she cleaned you up? And without a wand, too!"

"Do you think we'll be doing magic without a wand?"

"I dunno. Do you think we'll be doing magic at all?"

"She certainly doesn't like the Ministry or the Prophet. What do you make of that?"

"I don't know, but at least she's fair with house points."

"I know, right?" Ron said to the last remark enthusiastically. "I mean, who'd have thought that 'small' and 'wood' would be the right answers?"

"You're too hard on yourself, Ron," Harry said. "You had experience that no one else has. I don't envy you, but you have some insight that the rest of us don't."

"I never thought of it that way," Ron said wistfully. "At least she didn't take any crap from Malfoy. I hope she keeps on taking points from him. Especially if he keeps asking for it."

"She certainly does seem fair and intelligent," Hermione said carefully, "but some of her tales are a bit far-fetched. I mean, alternate universes are only a theory according to every book I've ever read. And Gypsies are just Muggle nomads the last time I checked. The Ministry would know if there were other magic users out there."

"Somehow, I don't think Professor Rosenberg cares much what the Ministry thinks," Harry said firmly as he sat down to dinner. "And I'm glad of that, too. You know, considering the smear campaign against me."

"Oh, Harry! I'm not trying to say that they're acting rightly, because they're not. But the Ministry hires only the best. You need top grades to get in there, so they must have a rather good idea of what they're doing."

"Hermione," Ron said patiently as he loaded up a plate of mashed potatoes, "do you remember Percy? Good grades are one thing, but do you really think he's as capable as his grades make him out to be?"

"Do mine ears deceive me?" Fred said from behind them.

"Is our ickle Ronnykins, the prefect, attacking the sanctity of test scores?" George said.

"Are you sure you're our brother?" Fred said.

"I don't know," George said. "Maybe he's grown up and become-"

"A true Weasley?" the twins said together in mock-horror.

"That'd be something," Fred said warmly.

"Indeed it would," George agreed. "So, tell us everything. What was Rosenberg's class like?"

"Stories as wild as Lockhart's, but not embellished or obviously false," Harry said. "Knowledge of dark creatures to rival Lupin's, and a perspective of combat that's kind of like Moody."

"I got ten points for Gryffindor off of her," Ron chimed in. "And she splashed her drink all over Tracey Davis on purpose."

"Really?" the twins said in unison.

"I don't know Davis…"

"…except that she's a Slytherin."

"And if Rosenberg is splashing them…"

"…with unknown liquids…"

"We have to approve," they said once more together.

"Even if she thinks you're all right," Fred added to his younger brother.

"She's definitely anti-Ministry, and she said so right in the class," Hermione said. "If she's not careful, that Umbridge woman may come down hard on her."

"Yeah, who is she, anyway?" Harry wondered aloud.

"She's trouble, Harry," Hermione answered. "She's a spy for Fudge, and she's probably got orders to make a mess of things if the Ministry feels threatened."

"Didn't Dumbledore say she was an observer?" Harry asked. "Where's she been so far?"

"She was in Flitwick's class today," George said. "Just sat in the back, taking notes. Didn't do much. But you know Flitwick. Smart, capable, nice bloke. No reason for any trouble there."

"Wonder what it'll be like with the other teachers," Fred said. "If she is working for Fudge, she can't be good news. Maybe dad knows something about her. We're gonna borrow Pig and send a letter to dad."

"Oi! I'll write dad, just let me finish eating," Ron protested.

"You take too long," the twins said as one. "See you later," they said as they walked off.

"You know, you are a prefect, Ron," Hermione said gently. "You could have put your foot down."

"Against those two? No chance, Hermione! And why didn't you help me out?"

"They weren't breaking any rules," Hermione said evasively, though Harry thought he saw her lips curve upward slightly at the look on Ron's face.

"Yeah? Well, I think Rosenberg would want us to break the rules," Ron said emphatically. "Her entire lesson seemed about throwing our world upside down. Do you think she meant for us to break wands? Or set them on fire?"

"Ron!" Hermione protested loudly. "That's a horrible thing to think! Why would she want us to do that?"

Harry was only half-listening as he began to pick up the lesson that he thought that Professor Rosenberg had been meaning for them to pick up on. Take away the Death Eaters' wands, or break them, or burn them, and they would be effectively neutered.

"I think, Hermione," Harry said carefully, "that Professor Rosenberg meant exactly that. And I think that crossing her would be a very bad idea."

Harry let his face split into a wide grin. "I can't wait to see what she does to Malfoy next!"


	9. Compelling Words

**Chapter Nine: Compelling Words**

* * *

><p>Willow had gone to sleep after her first two days of classes feeling distinctly content with how things had gone. She'd managed to establish her authority and keep the class in check while also getting them to start thinking unconventionally. All in all, it seemed like she was making steady progress.<p>

Her third morning at Hogwarts was a sobering one. A deluge of owls bombarded her quarters early in the morning, waking her up as she was pelted with letters from angry parents, writing to tell her in no uncertain terms that they did _not_appreciate her anti-establishment tone. Some of them had even gone so far as to insult her parentage. Willow understood that these wizards might take pride in their lineage, especially as it pertained to magic, but Willow took pride in being a self-made woman. She was a Rosenberg by blood only, and was really more of a Summers in fact.

A number of parents had informed her of their intent to write to the Board of Governors, which would put her in a difficult situation. If they tried to force Willow to abandon her post, if they tried to stop her from teaching innocent children to defend themselves, then she wasn't going to let them do that. If the Council needed her for something more important, that would be one thing, but remembering her own upbringing – or lack thereof, really – made her all that more resolved to give these kids the help and support that they needed.

Thus it was that Willow found herself at the staff table, eating her breakfast slowly and carefully while assessing the student body in front of her. Most of them seemed to be caught up in their own affairs, but she caught a number of them staring at her or gesturing as if they thought her oblivious. She'd been rather dismissive about the Ministry's stupidity, as if it were obvious. It was becoming clear that the whole society was one that thrived on the status quo, and upsetting it was going to ruffle some feathers. Getting the students to start thinking and questioning and making their own choices would be a top priority.

As she ate, a small piece of pink parchment popped into being in her lap. It bore a Ministry seal, and Willow opened it, dreading what she was about to read…

_'Professor Willow Danielle Rosenberg,_

_We are writing to inform you that Senior Undersecretary Dolores Jane Umbridge will be in attendance during your second afternoon class on September 4th, 2006. Please prepare yourself and your class for observation. Thank you.'_

The letter was unsigned save for a wax Ministry seal, but Willow had a sneaking suspicion that Umbridge wrote the letter herself, referring to herself in the plural as if seeing herself as royalty. _Being a pureblood witch in a government position, she probably does._

Willow had set aside a larger classroom for her lesson today, to follow up with her fifth years in the afternoon periods after the reading she'd given them previously. She'd have to change those plans. It was too late to change the location, but she could still change the lesson. It would require a bit of guesswork on her part, but Willow was willing to wager that she could handle whatever Umbridge had to throw at her.

After breakfast would be her morning classes with the younger students, which were more lecture-based at this point in the term. The older students were already experienced with using magic, but the younger ones needed a guiding hand just to get off the ground. With thoughts of helping the nice kiddies in her mind, Willow finished her breakfast and rose to leave.

Before leaving the Great Hall, she turned around and regarded the pink parchment that resided on her empty plate. Willow felt a great deal of anger towards the innocuous-colored thing, and she clenched her fist and watched as the parchment erupted into a ball of fire that was just as quickly extinguished.

Ignoring the glances and stares that the students were shooting her way, Willow stalked off to teach her morning classes, and then to plan her lesson with Umbridge. Oh, the fun she was going to have! The bitch wouldn't know what hit her.

* * *

><p>Harry was walking back from his first Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the year feeling quite conflicted. On the one hand, he loved Hagrid and didn't want to do or say or even think anything remotely disloyal. On the other hand, Professor Grubbly-Plank was a very competent teacher who wasn't quite so obsessed with dangerous monsters.<p>

They had been working with bowtruckles, which Professor Grubbly-plank confirmed had an affinity for wand wood, just as Professor Rosenberg had said in her first lesson. Harry was due to have his second class with her after Transfiguration in the afternoon, and after reading the three chapters that she had assigned, Harry had no idea at all what to expect, save that it would probably involve a lot of running.

Lunch passed relatively uneventfully, with Hermione going on about her Arithmancy lessons and how she was so nervous about her upcoming OWL exam in what was arguably the most difficult subject taught at Hogwarts.

"Hermione, please," Ron said between bites. "We're not all geniuses like you. Take pity on us."

"Ron! Did you just call me a genius?" Hermione asked with a strange look on her face.

Ron simply shrugged. "Well, yeah. I mean, you are, aren't you?"

"That's just… Thank you, Ron!"

"Uh-huh. Harry, pass the roast beef."

Harry sighed. Ron could be too oblivious sometimes. "Here you go," he said, shooting an apologetic look at Hermione.

"Thanks, mate. So, all we have to do after lunch is survive one class with McGonagall and another with Rosenberg." He sighed dramatically. "Are we even gonna make it?"

"'Course we'll make it, Ron," Harry said encouragingly. "We've faced down worse, haven't we?"

"I hear she's going to be making us do laps," Ron whispered, as if sharing a dangerous secret. "Around the entire castle!"

"Oh, don't be silly, Ron!" Hermione said. "All that would do is give us a horribly difficulty workout, and it would probably take up the entirety of the lesson, if not longer, and oh my God, you're right! That is _exactly_the kind of thing that Rosenberg would do, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't put it past her," Harry said, not looking forward to the thought of that much running in the hilly terrain surrounding the castle. "Come on, then. We don't want to be late for McGonagall."

"Oi! I'm still eating," Ron protested.

"Shorter lunch or McGonagall's wrath, mate. Take your pick."

McGonagall might not be as snide and unfair as Snape, but she was just as strict. Ron settled for one last bite before rising from his seat with an over-dramatic sigh and following Harry and Hermione to class.

Their first Transfiguration lesson of the year started off with a very stern lecture about the importance and difficulty of the OWL exams that they would be taking at the end of the year. How they would influence what classes they could take, and what career choices would be open to them, etcetera. Thoughts of a job requiring a good Potions grade – and if he wanted to be an Auror, he would probably need to know poisons and antidotes – made him sulk.

"I assure you that the process has been designed to ensure that you are placed in classes optimal for your future careers. I must say, a lot of you seem doubtful," McGonagall said not unkindly.

Harry raised his hand, and was pleased when McGonagall gestured for him to answer. "It's just that, well, what if certain teachers are intent on making sure we don't pass our exams, Professor?"

McGonagall let out a small 'hmph' of disapproval. "If you are referring to your very public rivalry with Professor Snape, Potter, then I will attempt to quench your worries here and now. Professor Snape is a highly competent potioneer, and any personal feelings he has will have no impact on your OWL exams. An independent board of testers will be overseeing your exams, along with the NEWT-level tests for seventh year students. They are highly respected as being fair, impartial, and well-versed in academia. You would have to work very hard indeed to make them see you, Potter, as Professor Snape does. Kindly don't make that effort."

McGonagall's words elicited a few gentle laughs from her class, and Harry felt a bit better knowing that Snape wouldn't be personally overseeing this very important exam. Potions wasn't a terribly difficult subject on its own, but whenever Snape started breathing down his neck, everything just seemed that much harder. But with impartial examiners, maybe he could get through his exams after all.

The rest of the lesson proved to be quite difficult, as they had to transfigure a hedgehog into a pincushion. Privately, Harry felt bad for the animals that were constantly being subjected to inexperienced students' attempts at magic, despite the teachers' reassurances that it was all perfectly safe and humane.

By the end of the class, only Hermione had managed a complete transformation, earning the rest of them extra homework on the subject. It was no use grumbling within earshot of McGonagall, and even outside of her classroom, there was no denying that while she was certainly strict, she was also fair with all of her students. Hopefully Professor Rosenberg would be able to stay as fair as she had been in her first lesson without being quite as strict as McGonagall or – Heaven forbid – Snape.

Harry's second Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson was being held in a large classroom that he had never been to before, and it looked as though it had been set up for dueling. A cluster of desks were set up on one side of the room, with Professor Rosenberg standing with her hands clasped behind her back behind a single student's desk, upon which rested some papers.

Harry took his seat next to Ron and Hermione as the rest of the class filed in. While making an effort to ignore the smug looks on some of the Slytherins' faces, Hermione tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to a lone desk in the corner.

There sat a pink-clad thing that looked remarkably like a toad. _Umbridge, great. She's going to rip Rosenberg to pieces over her anti-Ministry talk. At least she doesn't have the power to sack her. Does she?_

* * *

><p>Willow watched patiently as her class entered, and she was glad to see fewer looks of smug superiority on the Slytherin side of the classroom. Those that did look a bit too happy were casting hopeful glances at Frog-Face, as Willow had mentally dubbed the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. Willow smirked at the prospect of anyone taking pride in such a silly title. <em>Delusions of grandeur, most likely. And perceptions shape reality. She believes she has power. I just have to make sure no one else believes that.<em>

As the last of her students took their seats, Willow stepped forward. "All right, everyone! Good to see you all again. Did everyone read the assigned chapters? You all start pondering the info contained therein, and how to use it?"

"Hem-hem."

Willow made a point of ignoring Frog-Face's little cough as the students gave varying degrees of affirmation regarding their homework. "Okay, then. So, you've studied the most basic of basics. I had planned for today's lesson to be a practical demonstration of how to put those tactics to use…"

"Hem-hem."

"…but as you can no doubt see and hear, we have a guest with us today. Good afternoon, Miss Umbridge."

The rest of the class turned to look at Frog-Face, who had put on an incredibly unconvincing smile. "Thank you, Professor Rosenberg. You received the notice I sent you regarding my presence at today's lesson?"

"Well, yeah, obviously," Willow said a bit sarcastically. "I mean, if I hadn't, then I'd be asking you what the hell you were doing here, interrupting my class."

The reddening of the toad-like face made Willow feel a bit more confident. Red was not the color of most frogs, so that helped some. "And as I said, I had planned for today's lesson to be a more practical demonstration, but Miss Umbridge's presence has provided an opportunity for me to address a few issues that need to be talked about.

"You may have noticed that I have a bit of beef with the Ministry's handling of certain affairs. You know, what with putting dark, evil, soul-sucking demons in charge of guarding your world's most dangerous criminals. And with the obviously government-sponsored smear campaign against Headmaster Dumbledore and Harry Potter. And, oh yeah! Totally covering up and denying the fact that Voldemort's back, leaving him free to build up his power base without fear of reprisal.

"How'm I doing so far?" she asked the room as a whole.

The students seemed to be shocked into silence, while Umbridge seemed to be trying to muster the courage to mount a counter-argument.

"Right. I seem to have that down pat," Willow said. "But it's funny, you see. I got a bunch of mail from a lot of parents telling me that I was rocking the boat, causing mischief, spreading lies and fear, all that good stuff. So, I thought I would clarify some of my positions for everyone's benefit."

"Hem-hem."

"You okay over there? Got something in your throat, Madam Undersecretary?" Willow asked extra-brightly. "You sure you don't need to head to the infirmary?"

"Thank you for your concern," Umbridge said with false sweetness, "but I thought I might have a word with you about this particular subject matter."

Willow grinned, feeling quite satisfied that events were proceeding as she had predicted. "All right. What do you have to say?"

Umbridge seemed a bit taken back. "I meant to have a _private_word with you, Professor Rosenberg."

Willow turned to her class. "Observe the Ministry of Magic in action. Oh! Start taking notes by the way," she said to many confused looks. "Their appointed representative seeks to divide us, taking me off to the side so you can watch the new, inexperienced teacher be soundly lectured by the well-versed lady from the government. While you would watch us talk at a distance, unable to hear what was being said, doubts would start to form about whether or not your new teacher was truly capable. It's a subtle ploy at sowing discontent, but it's not happening here.

She turned back to Frog-Face. "Anything you have to say, you can say to me right here, Observer Umbridge."

The pink-clad monstrosity looked taken aback. "I am Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, and I will not be spoken to like-"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Willow said, not feeling sorry at all. "I thought your position at Hogwarts was that of an observer. You know: someone who observes and doesn't interrupt. You might want to change your job description, or else find a job somewhere else, Madam Observer."

She turned back to her class. "Take note of how the Ministry's representative displays considerable pride and ego over her status and position. An enemy's perceptions of superiority only exist as long as you allow them to feel superior. Remain submissive, let them get away with murder, and you empower them. Confront them, and you expose their weaknesses for everyone to see."

The students were too stunned to talk, and no one was taking notes, despite Willow's earlier suggestion. Umbridge looked livid.

"Regardless of my position, Professor," Frog-Face continued, her face splotched with an unseemly shade of purple, "you are spreading lies to the students of Hogwarts, and as a representative of the Ministry of Magic, it is my responsibility to stop this at its source."

Frog-Face now walked to a more noticeable position in the center of the room to address the class. "Now, let me be plain. You have been told that a certain dark wizard is alive and ready to terrorize the country as he did once before. This. Is. A. Lie!" she said as she stared emphatically at Harry Potter.

For his part, Harry seemed fed up with the Ministry's smearing of his reputation. "It's not a lie! I was there! I saw him come back!"

"Not to mention," Willow said from behind the pink toad, "that he used a very powerful and ancient dark ritual to revive himself. It was powerful enough that I could sense it on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. That's kinda what drove me to pursue this teaching position in the first place, in case you were all wondering," she said to her class. "If there's an insane murderer our there-"

"There are no dark murderers waiting to harm anyone!" Umbridge shrieked. "The Ministry assures you that there is nothing wrong whatsoever!"

"And I assure you," Willow said, raising her, "that any assurances from the Ministry are worth jack shit, and are just as rotten besides." Steadying her breathing quickly, Willow made to resume talking before Umbridge could interrupt. "You need to understand how your government works to get the scope of the problem.

"This is not a meritocracy, where the best and the brightest are rewarded with the most responsibility. No, you all tend to put a lot of stock in a person's blood status and in their wallets rather than in how good or competent they are. Look at your society's upper class. The Malfoys, the Blacks, the Lestranges to name three old, wealthy, pureblood families who all produced Death Eaters at one point or another. Not now, Draco," she said to placate her student who was getting ready to interrupt. "You and I will have a talk in private later.

"But, like I was saying, these families make up the elite of your society. They have the money and the prestige to get the Ministry to do whatever the hell they want. How many purist laws have been passed thanks to careful bribes? How many incompetent but pureblood wizards make it into the Ministry and other high positions in society?

"Now, then, Umbridge," Willow said, addressing Frog-Face directly, "tell me, in your own words, why it is good for things to remain unchanged in Wizarding society? Be honest, I really do want to know."

Shocked out of her silence by the direct question, Umbridge began to recite, rather than speak her own mind. "It is the firm position of the Ministry of Magic that rapid change to the status quo is inherently disruptive and counter-intuitive to the promotion of good and pure Wizarding values."

Willow smirked. "There you have it, straight from the horse's mouth. Which is kind of a strange thing to say, considering that horses don't talk. At least, none that I've ever met. But, anyway, the Ministry doesn't like change. At least not rapid change. A controlled change – one that the Ministry directs – would allow them to shape the world to their liking. And notice the usage of 'good and _pure_' Wizarding values. A subtle reminder of the kind of people who really hold the power in your government.

"To admit that Voldemort is really back – and he really is, by the way – would be a change that the Ministry is not ready to accept. More importantly, too many in the top echelons of government are either supporters of Voldemort, or else they take money from his Death Eaters. So, we have a society run by purists, like Voldemort, funded by purists, like Voldemort, who refuse to reveal the truth of things – or maybe even to accept that the truth is even real – just so that they can hold onto their personal power, which they hold in supreme regard."

She paused and cast a significant glance at Umbridge. "Like Voldemort."

The students were still too shocked to speak, and Umbridge looked positively livid. _Nobody ever talked back to you or told you that you were ever wrong, did they? Poor, spoiled little brat. Someone's got to put you in your place. Or maybe just put you down._

* * *

><p>Dolores Jane Umbridge had never been so humiliated in her life! <em>Never<em>had anyone dared to speak to her that way, or to challenge the Ministry in such a public forum! And in front of impressionable young witches and wizards, no less! This had to stop before it got any further out of hand!

"Professor Rosenberg," she said as sternly as she could, "I am afraid that your classes are deviating far too greatly from Ministry-approved guidelines. You will provide me with your personal syllabus for examination and approval. Failure to comply will result in termination of your employment." The Ministry didn't technically have the power to sack Hogwarts faculty, but if Umbridge had her way, they soon would.

To her shock, Rosenberg simply smiled and turned to her class. "Watch this," she said with a wink that caused Umbridge's hackles to raise.

Rosenberg turned to Umbridge and waved her hand very slightly. "You don't need to see my syllabus."

Umbridge meant to protest, but it did make a strange sort of sense, actually. The class was most certainly orderly and attentive, and Rosenberg's positions were very clear. "I don't need to see your syllabus."

Rosenberg smiled and waved her hand again. "This isn't the class you're looking for."

And really, she had an excellent point. Umbridge had come here expecting to find a wild and uncontrolled demonstration of physical violence, but had instead been treated to a well-reasoned lecture. "This isn't the class I'm looking for."

"We can go about our business," Rosenberg said.

Again, Umbridge found herself agreeing. Some of the students – Muggle-borns, mostly – were smiling quite widely. But that spoke to respect for their professor. "You can go about your business."

Rosenberg smiled at her and waved. "Have a good day!" she said brightly.

_Why, how thoughtful of her!_ "Have a good day," Umbridge echoed before turning to leave the class in peace. Clearly, the students were in good hands. _And weren't they all so thoughtful, keeping silent all that time to let the adults talk things out? Not that there was anything objectionable. It all made perfect sense. Didn't it? It's all a bit fuzzy, but I'm sure I would remember if anything important had happened._ Umbridge left the classroom in very high spirits.

* * *

><p>It was all Harry could do to keep from laughing out loud as Umbridge danced to Willow's fiddle, straight out of the Star Wars textbook. He might not have gotten to watch much television as a kid, but Harry knew enough to know that the Force – or magic, in this case – can have a strong influence on the weak-minded.<p>

As soon as Umbridge was gone, Hermione's hand shot up into the air.

"Yes, Miss Granger," Willow said happily, as though nothing untoward had transpired.

"Did you just use the Imperius Curse, Professor?"

"What? Oh, no! No, assuming direct control over people is bad. Nasty stuff. I just used a bit of powered suggestion to get her to see reason. And that's another lesson you might want to write down. If you force someone to do something, they'll obey, but they'll resent it and resist you. But if you use innuendo and suggestions to imply that your view is the right one – with or without magic backing it up – then you'll get people to happily assist you. Of course, the bad guys will use these same tricks as well. And I'm sad to see that none of you were taking notes during my conversation with Observer Umbridge. There was a lot in there about deception and innuendo that will probably appear on a test sometime soon. Don't worry, though! I'll go over the material again. In fact, why don't we do that now? I have a device that can project memories and replay them, so let's do that. You can take notes and find things you may have missed the first time around."

The rest of the lesson was just that, as Rosenberg took out her memory device – she'd called it an iPad, Harry thought – and then enlarged it to the size of a small cinema screen. She'd paused the video at various intervals to quiz the students on what had been said aloud, and what the underlying message had really been.

When the bell rang, a number of students from both houses were still jotting down notes.

"Ah! Out of time already! All right, everyone. Go over those first three chapters again and prepare for the next lesson to be like the lesson you were expecting for today. I promise not to change things up again, even if Umbridge comes back for more. Oh! And Malfoy, I'd like to see you, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott after class. You're not in trouble, but I do want to talk with you all a bit."

Harry noted the one thing the four Slytherins had in common: their fathers were all Death Eaters. But if they weren't in trouble, then what did Rosenberg want with them. Was she planning to help them? Was she a Death Eater in disguise?

_No, that makes no sense. If she was, she could have killed me easily over the summer, or delivered me to Voldemort, if that's what he wanted. What does she want with them?_

Harry found the question tormenting him over dinner as he picked at his food without really eating any of it.

"Harry? You all right, mate?" Ron asked.

"Huh? Yeah, Ron, I'm fine. It's just that… Why would Rosenberg want to talk to Death Eaters' kids? What would she have to say to them?"

"Dunno," Ron said. "Maybe she's giving them the Ministry speech, only about their dads. 'They're bad news, stay away.' All that, you know?"

"Possibly," Hermione conceded. "It could be a gesture to placate them, to emphasize that she doesn't hold them accountable for their parents' actions. I mean, Lucius Malfoy is an evil man, I think we can agree. But _Draco_Malfoy… Well, he's an idiot and a bully, of course. But do you really think he's capable of murder and torture?"

"He's Malfoy, Hermione," Harry said a bit too quickly. "What do you think?" But if Harry was honest with himself, he couldn't answer her question. Dudley was a buffoon and a bully and a nasty person, after all. But he wasn't evil, and he was certainly not growing up to be a killer. Was Malfoy the same? And what about the other Slytherins?

The thought of innocent Slytherin students in over their heads kept Harry Potter awake that night. _They're Slytherins. They can't ever be up to anything good. They're nothing but bad news._

Why was it so much easier to think a thing, Harry wondered, than it was to believe it?

* * *

><p>Note: I bumped up the HP timeline to coincide with the BTVS timeline. This story takes place three years after the events of 'Chosen,' so the main events of the HP timeline should be bumped up by about eleven years so that Harry's fifth year will be the 2006-2007 school year.<p> 


	10. The Harsh Light of Truth

**Chapter Ten: The Harsh Light of Truth**

* * *

><p>Willow was in trouble. She didn't know what kind of trouble just yet, but she knew that it was trouble of some sort. She'd just been summoned to the principal's office. – <em>Sorry! You're a headmaster, right. –<em> and while she might be a teacher herself, her gut reaction to being asked to see the man in charge was one full of mental expletives and fear over what would happen to her mostly stainless reputation.

But said stainless reputation was a lifetime ago. This was not her world, and she had been seeking out and actively brewing trouble. So, yeah, maybe it wasn't such a surprise that she had been summoned here after all.

She was waiting now, and also with her was Professor McGonagall, the latter's face an unreadable mask. They were joined shortly by Professor Snape, and then a few minutes later by Dumbledore himself. Willow noted that they were all members of the Order of the Phoenix, though Willow wasn't sure if she counted as a member or not.

"Thank you for coming. Please, sit down," Dumbledore said politely as he took a seat behind his desk.

The Headmaster waited for the others to make themselves comfortable. "There are a few items I would like to address. The first of which is Professor Rosenberg's handling of Madam Umbridge during one of her lessons. Willow, would you please explain what you did to Miss Umbridge and why you did it?"

Willow tried not to gulp too audibly. All three of the others in the room were imposing and intimidating on their own, but here they were together, and she was young and new here. "Well," she began, "I was originally going to do a lesson on the basics of combat. Using magic while moving, dodging, getting in for a closer attack, etcetera. But then I got a note from Frog-Face… Uh, that's Umbridge, I mean. That is to say…"

"I recommend you simply call her 'Madam Umbridge from this point forward, Willow," Dumbledore chided her gently, though his eyes twinkled with laughter.

"Heh heh. Uh, thanks. So, yeah. She dropped a note saying she was going to observe my class. I decided to change my lesson to use her as a teaching tool to show the students that, hey, the Ministry is full of incompetent morons at best and Death Eaters at the worst, and _Madam_Umbridge was kind enough to act all arrogant and stupid to help me prove my points."

"Do you have any idea what sort of reaction this will provoke?" Snape sneered softly. "Parents will take note of this, and the Ministry will further involve itself in Hogwarts affairs, making the defense of students that much harder. As for the Order…"

"Professor Rosenberg is not formally a member of the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore said, and Willow felt as though she'd been slapped. "She is a trusted and valuable ally, but being from the United States, and a self-taught wandless witch, the Ministry will likely place her in a category apart from the Order. She will simply reside alongside us in a file reserved for trouble-brewers, I imagine.

"I am more concerned, however, about her use of magical persuasion on Madam Umbridge. I have heard some highly amusing tales from certain parents who are not quite fond of her, but some of the more traditionalist families have written to express their concerns about such things. As for Madam Umbridge herself, she does not remember the details of what happened in your classroom, only that something unusual did occur in the midst of her observation. I would highly suggest, Professor Rosenberg, that you do not further seek to actively provoke her."

Willow felt her face flush with a mixture of emotions, but she wasn't about to apologize for her actions. "The kids need to know what they're up against. And the bad guys aren't just the killers and the rapists and the violent people. People who work in secret, bribing and whispering and passing subtle laws to undermine the country are just as bad. Not to mention the idiocy in the government that just needs to be pointed out. Umbridge is one of the bad guys, and I'll do what it takes for people to see that. Everything is all right there for everyone to see if they take the time to look."

"And looking they are, Professor Rosenberg," Dumbledore said. "I suspect we have you to thank for that."

_Well, that wasn't the reprimand I was expecting._"Uh, could you be a bit more specific? Sir?"

"Your lessons, Willow," he said with a smile. "Your students have begun to question the way things work, and they have been in contact with their families. I have received not a few letters from people who just a few weeks ago were flooding my desk with hate mail, but now are re-examining their views. Their support is not yet wholly won, nor is it at all universal. But you have made people willing to listen to reason, which is a powerful weapon in our arsenal."

Willow felt her spirits lift, and she sat up a bit straighter. "Thanks! I mean, not that taking credit matters here or anything. It's just that all it took was a bit of telling the truth and refusing to back down. Shine the spotlight on the shadows, and they go 'poof' and reveal what was hidden. It's really pretty simple stuff."

"I wonder," Snape drawled, "what other 'simple stuff' you have been filling the students' minds with."

Not liking the Potions Master's tone, Willow rounded on him and crossed her arms. "And what do you mean by that, Professor Snape?" she asked him harshly.

The man's mouth curled into a sneer. "Four of my students have become increasingly distraught over the past few days. Mister Malfoy has become lax in his duties as a prefect, Mister Nott has become more prone to nervous outbreaks, and Misters Crabbe and Goyle have become, of all things, slightly pensive. The latter might be a positive change, though it is unexpected. And the unexpected and the unknown worry me. Do you have an explanation for this behavior, Professor Rosenberg?"

Willow smiled a humorless grin. "I do, actually. Let me tell you all what happened a few nights ago, when I met with those four students. I was trying to make an impression, and if I did, then it was worth it. Here's what happened."

* * *

><p><em>FOUR NIGHTS AGO<em>

Willow sat on top of a desk in the mostly empty classroom now that the bell had chimed. Four of her Slytherin students remained at her request, and now came the hard part of trying to shatter their deeply ingrained delusions of the way the world worked.

"So," she said to the four assembled students, "I take it you all have a bit of an idea why you're here talking with me now?" she asked kindly.

Not unexpectedly, it was Draco Malfoy who spoke up first. "You leveled a serious accusation against my family, Professor," he said with all the haughty arrogance he could muster. "My father _will_hear about this, and when he does…"

"Your father, Draco, would be wise to stay away from me. As would all of your fathers," she warned them in a matter-of-fact tone. "Now, I'm not about to pass judgment on if they've been good parents or not, since I don't know the slightest thing about how you all were raised. I do know, however, that your fathers are all Death Eaters in Voldemort's service," she said casually, not stopping as they cringed at the name, "and that if I ever personally see any of them, I will do everything in my power to capture them. If you paid attention in class, then you'll remember that I don't really like the Ministry, so any attempts to appeal to my sense of fear of the law are in vain."

"Right. So, you're making up the law yourself now, are you?" the young Malfoy accused.

"Not making it up, Draco. Just ignoring it if it gets in my way," Willow said dismissively. "But from what I gather, you all think very highly of your fathers, and I wouldn't be surprised if you intend to follow in their footsteps after you graduate. Or maybe even before. Am I right?"

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle seemed a bit too dim to understand what she was asking of them. Theodore Nott seemed smart enough to keep quiet, and Draco Malfoy just had to get a word in. "If we were, we certainly wouldn't tell you, would we?"

Willow smiled. "No, I don't think you would. At least not intentionally. But I've noticed that you like to boast, Draco, which will get you in trouble if you're not careful. And I'm not entirely sure you understand what it means to be a Death Eater.

"Now, there have been a lot of nasty, evil people in the world who have managed to get otherwise decent people to follow them in their madness. Evil has a funny way of telling us exactly what we want to hear when we most want to hear it. It's only later, after we're in too deep, that we learn what's expected of us. So tell me, what appeals to you about Voldemort's message? His aims, his goals, etcetera. What makes you admire him? And no, I'm not about to go postal on you for thinking freely. You can think whatever you want, so long as those thoughts don't lead to anyone getting hurt. So go on. Spill."

Crabbe and Goyle still looked a bit too stunned to say anything, and Malfoy seemed to finally realize that he had a big mouth. It was Nott who spoke up first. "Cleansing the world. Getting rid of the unworthy. Making the world a better place by allowing only the best to thrive. That's what I want, at least."

Willow nodded in understanding, but she doubted her young charges understood at all. "Tell me, Theodore, are you familiar with the term 'ethnic cleansing?'"

The student shook his head. "No. Should I have?"

"No, I guess not. It's a term used mostly in the non-magical world. But it generally refers to one group of people thoroughly exterminating another group of people. We're talking genocide here. But the people doing the 'cleansing' didn't just kill people. They raped them. Tortured them. Took pleasure in making them suffer before killing them. Sometimes making their families watch just for kicks.

"Tell me, all of you, could you look into, say, Dean Thomas's eyes as you tortured him in front of his mother? Could you listen to her screams and pleas for mercy while you made her son suffer through the most excruciating torment you could imagine? And yes, I know the Cruciatus Curse can cause immense pain, but there's no way for a spectator to know that. Could you cut into Dean's skin with a knife, drenching the house in his blood while you laughed and enjoyed yourself, forcing his mother to watch her son bleed to death? Did you even know that a person could bleed to death?

"And then, if he wasn't already dead, could you deliver the final blow? Could you look Dean Thomas, your classmate, in the eye, knowing that he'd done nothing to you or your families, and could you snuff the life out of him forever? Could you murder him in cold blood? And then could you do the same thing over and over again, whenever you were ordered to? Could you visit a complete stranger's home, someone you knew nothing about, who might be totally innocent, or even a pureblood who happened to make a mistake, and do to them what I just described to you?

"And," Willow said, making sure to make this point very clear, "what if you got cold feet? Or what if you made a mistake that got your high and mighty _Dark Lord_angry with you? Would you be able to watch as your one-time friends and allies did these things to you and your family, just to send a message to everyone else of what happens to those who hesitate? Think about that."

To Willow's relief, her four students had paled and looked rather sick. Even Crabbe and Goyle seemed to understand that this was not a path that they had considered going down. Nott looked disgusted, and Malfoy looked positively horrified.

"Too stunned to speak, I see," she said. "Well, you're going to need to find words soon, because we're going on a field trip. Give me just a moment." Willow took out her wand, feeling the need to get the hang of it, and waved it at her students. "Conceal magic."

The four Slytherins found themselves looking at each other in shock, as they appeared to be dressed in distinctly non-magical clothes. The look of jeans and t-shirts made for four very surprised faces.

"It's just an illusion," she told them. "You need to not draw attention to yourselves. Now then! Field trip. Everyone join hands. Physical contact is necessary. And don't even think of refusing. You may not believe it, but I'm doing this all for your sakes. I get that this isn't your idea of fun, but there are more important things. So just cooperate and don't make me force you to do this, okay?"

Her earlier display of power against Umbridge fresh in their minds, the four students quickly joined hands. Smiling, Willow took Nott's right hand in her left and Goyle's left hand in her right. "Okay, then. Let's go."

A gust of magical wind surrounded them, and a moment later they were standing in the middle of a quaint neighborhood just outside of Washington DC. It was early in the afternoon.

"Where are we?" Malfoy asked harshly, looking terrified. "And how is it still light outside? Did you just take us through time, Rosenberg?"

Willow scowled at the boy's impertinence. "Call me Miss Rosenberg while we're here, all of you. And we didn't travel through time, just space. We're in Maryland in the United States, just outside of Washington DC. That's the American capital, in case you didn't know."

"But how is it still light outside?" Nott asked.

Willow smacked her head. "Wow. Just, wow. They really don't teach you anything remotely non-magical, do they? The short version is that every day both starts and ends earlier in the east than it does in the west. It's going on seven o'clock in the evening back at Hogwarts, but it's going on two o'clock right here. It's almost eleven in the morning on the Pacific Coast. I'd be happy to go over the science of it with you later, if you're interested. It's the magic of nature, even if it's not the kind of magic you're accustomed to.

"But we're not here for a science lesson. Look around you. What do you see?"

The students looked around, as if expecting to see something out of the ordinary, but nothing jumped out at them. "There are houses," Nott said. "And there are a couple of kids with a dog over there," he said, gesturing to a boy and a girl playing with a golden retriever in their front yard.

Willow smiled. "Excellent. These are houses. People live here. Families live here. They don't know anything about the Wizarding World, and they probably never will. They're just going about their lives. The adults are at work, the children are at school. Those two kids over there are a bit young for school just yet, but they'll probably start next year.

"Every morning and every night, these houses are filled with families who you've never met, and they are sharing their stories with each other of what their lives are like, just like you might do with your friends and your families. Look again. What thoughts and feelings fill your head as you look at this place, and at those kids and their dog?"

The Slytherins took another look and kept silent, as if fearing Willow's wrath if they gave a wrong answer.

Surprisingly, it was Goyle who answered. "It's quiet. It's like they're just living," he said simply.

"I like the dog," Crabbe added. "It looks nice."

Malfoy tried and failed to hold in his laughter, but he was quickly silenced by Willow's glare. "You're right, Gregory, Vincent. It is quiet. There are thousands of places like this in this country alone. Nobody trying to do anything sinister. Nobody plotting to overthrow the government or stage a coup. No one is even aware of the existence of wizards and witches.

"And the dog is wonderful. He, or she, is even more oblivious than the humans who live here. The doggie just wants to have fun and to make people happy. That's all that matters in its little world. Not that that's a bad thing. It's just a dog thing.

"Now, imagine you had to go up to that house, and tie up those kids and their parents, and kill that dog right in front of them. The kids would cry. You probably would as well if you'd lost a beloved pet. And then you'd go on to torture that boy and that girl, whose only concern was when dinner would be served and how late they could stay up. You would inflict suffering and pain upon them while their parents begged you to stop, and you would only stop long enough to kill them.

"The parents would cry out in horror, wondering why you would do such a thing. They never did anything to you. They had no idea you even existed. But then you would kill the parents all the same. And then you'd burn the house down. You'd then repeat this for every family in every one of these houses in this neighborhood, and then you'd do the same thing the next day in another neighborhood just like this one, until there were none left in the entire world.

"That is what Voldemort wants. These quiet people, whose lives don't hurt anyone at all, are vermin by his creed. Good for nothing unless they are dead. Look at those two kids now, and their dog, and picture them and their parents in every one of these houses. Tell me honestly that you could not only kill them all, but that you could enjoy it, too."

Malfoy and Nott paled and looked like they might be sick. Goyle and Crabbe looked thoughtful for the first time that Willow could recall, which gave her hope.

"Why?" Crabbe asked. "Why hurt them? I… I heard a kid scream once in Diagon Alley. She was lost, couldn't find her mum. The screaming hurt. I don't want to hear that screaming again. Not ever."

Goyle nodded. "I don't, either. My cousin's looks a bit like those kids," he said strangely.

Nott shook his head. "They're just there. Why would we have to kill them?"

"Because they're Muggles," Malfoy said as if it were obvious, but his voice held none of the disgust or arrogance it had once held. He seemed lost in thought, as if trying to make sense of why these people deserved death.

A few minutes passed in silence before a yellow school bus pulled up to a corner a few feet away and began unloading high school students. Willow pointed them out to her charges. "See those people there? Some of them are about your age. They just got back from school today, and they'll go back again, every Monday through Friday of every week, and then they'll come home again. They're just like you, only without magic. Could you really go up to that bus, with all those kids just like you inside, and blow it up? Kill all those kids just because they were born without magic? That is _exactly_ what Voldemort would have you do. And he'd want you to do it _for fun._

"Are you still all so eager to follow in your parents' footsteps now?"

Nobody said another word for the rest of the trip. They walked around a bit, observing the different kinds of trees and houses that existed on this side of the Atlantic Ocean. Willow let them take it all in, hoping that they'd realized that these were not things that deserved to burn.

After another twenty minutes, Willow brought them all back to the classroom. None of them asked her about her ability to teleport into and out of Hogwarts. After lifting the illusion spells on the four Slytherins, she sent them off to dinner, but they didn't look very hungry. Willow wasn't hungry either. A glass of water and some sleep would do her some good, though. Yes, that would be nice.

* * *

><p><em>DUMBLEDORE'S OFFICE – PRESENT DAY<em>

"That's it?"

Willow glared at Snape's casual dismissal of her efforts to help their students. "What do you mean?" she asked as sweetly as she could.

"You just talked to them and showed them a tiny corner of the Muggle world? Ignoring, for the moment, that you can somehow come and go from Hogwarts at will, but you expect us to believe that all you did to my students was to talk to them and to show them a single street corner?"

"Yup. Why? Is that a problem?" Willow challenged.

"No, I do not think it is a problem at all," Dumbledore said. "And I do believe that your efforts may go a long way towards preventing future disaster here at Hogwarts. I have no doubt that Lord Voldemort will attempt to exert his influence over the families of students here, and perhaps use the students themselves as weapons in his bid at war."

Now Willow turned her glare on the Headmaster. "Using kids as weapons. Uh huh. Kinda like you with Harry Potter, right?"

"Professor Rosenberg!" McGonagall cried harshly, "there is no call for such language!"

"Oh, I beg to differ," Willow said. "You see, I went to pick up Harry and found him underfed at his aunt and uncle's place, not even allowed to have breakfast with his family, who are a bunch of loud-mouthed idiots who seemed to look the other way when their spoiled brat of a son beats up Harry. You're a canny guy, Dumbledore, so you can't have missed that this was going on. And you just left him there to grow up, abused and neglected and uncared for. And that's not even mentioning the blood magic saturating the place."

"Blood magic?" Snape asked, his curiosity seemingly peaked. "There is power in blood. Great power. What sort of blood magic did you use, Headmaster?" the Potions Master asked, turning his gaze to Dumbledore.

"I, too, would very much like to hear this explained," McGonagall said. "I have always told you, Albus, that those people were no good for Potter. If you can tell me why you left him with them, then you will please tell us now. I think we have earned that level of trust."

Dumbledore looked from Willow's Resolve Face to the resolved faces of the other two Order members in the room. "Well, it seems I cannot keep this secret any longer. Harry's mother died to protect him, and it was that sacrifice that shielded him from Voldemort as a baby. Petunia Evans-Dursley and her son, Dudley, were Harry's only living relatives on his mother's side, and so I trusted in that bond to keep him safe from Voldemort."

"Safe from Voldemort, right." Willow found it hard to believe that someone so powerful and brilliant as Dumbledore could be so blind. _Then again, power and brilliance can be abused and taken for granted. I know a thing or two about the power side of that, at least._"But was he safe from anyone else? What about the Death Eaters who never cast a spell at baby Harry or his parents? Or, say, an abusive aunt and uncle and cousin who you left him with to protect him? Blood magic is powerful, but it's also unstable. The darkness I felt in that place…" Willow shuddered.

"So," Snape drawled out, his unblinking gaze fixed on Dumbledore. "You kept him safe from the Dark Lord at the cost of exposing him to danger and abuse from everyone else. This isn't what we agreed on, Dumbledore. Your blood magic may have made things worse for Potter had the spell never been cast."

Willow turned to look at Snape. "Did you just call him 'the Dark Lord,' Professor Snape? I thought that was a title that only those with a certain respect for the man used."

Snape sneered at Willow. "The Dark Lord exerts considerable influence even without the use of magic. I was once among his followers, and I play at that role even now. You are in no position to presume anything, Miss Rosenberg," he said a touch defensively.

"That will do, both of you," Dumbledore said softly, his quiet authority silencing them both. "Regardless of anything else, it appears that you have pointed out a blind spot of mine, Willow. I have been quite preoccupied with keeping Harry safe from Lord Voldemort that I have not been quite as focused on his happiness and safety in regard to other factors."

Willow snorted. "Those 'other factors' being his life, you mean?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose I do, at that," he conceded. "Severus, would you kindly keep a close eye on your charges? They will no doubt need your help in the days and months to come. Minerva, do keep a lookout for Harry and his friends. Whether they find trouble or trouble finds them, there will be trouble surrounding him one way or the other."

"Hmph. That much is plain," McGonagall said haughtily.

"And Willow," Dumbledore said, "I highly encourage you to continue your brutal truth-telling in your lessons. You were right that shadows only exist so long as no light is cast upon them. Be a beacon for the students, Professor Rosenberg, and help them find their way."

Willow merely smiled, not needing to hear anything else. "Count on it."


	11. Greeks Bearing Gifts

**Chapter Eleven: Greeks Bearing Gifts**

* * *

><p>"Check it out," Ron said, gesturing towards the staff table. "Wonder who they are."<p>

'They,' Harry observed, were twelve impeccably-dressed wizards and witches who were standing in a very orderly line as Professor Dumbledore approached the one in front, the Headmaster looking quite serious.

"I think they're the Board of Governors," Hermione whispered. "They're probably here about Rosenberg or Umbridge. Maybe both."

"Hm." Harry wondered how things would play out if these people were who Hermione suspected they were, and if they were here for the reasons she believed. "What kinds of power do the Governors have?"

"They have the final say over staff appointments, including the Headmaster," Hermione said. "If the Ministry is leaning on the Governors as heavily as they are on the _Daily Prophet, _then it's probably not a good thing."

"I thought you didn't trust Rosenberg, Hermione," Ron queried.

"I don't, exactly. But she's speaking out very publically on your side, Harry, and whatever her own agenda is, we may have some common enemies."

"Isn't the enemy of my enemy my friend?" Harry asked rhetorically, watching Dumbledore lead the Governors out of the Great Hall.

"Not necessarily," Hermione said carefully. "Think about it like this. Say that Slytherin was in the lead for the House Cup, and they were doing everything they could to sabotage the other houses. Gryffindor would unite with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw to try and sideline Slytherin, but only until that threat was past. And then we'd turn on each other to claim the Cup for ourselves."

"Remind us again why Rosenberg isn't on our side?" Ron asked. "I mean, Dumbledore trusts her enough to give her access to… You know. Headquarters. Blimey, I really was about to say it out loud. Good thing I can't."

"There's still too much we don't know about this Council that she's from."

"I can tell you bits of it," Harry said. "At least about where I was for that day when she took me away from the Dursleys."

"That also worries me, Harry. That she could find you so easily at your aunt and uncle's place."

"Relax, Hermione," Ron insisted. "We've seen what she can do. If she wanted Harry dead, he'd be dead. No offense, mate."

"None taken," Harry replied honestly. Willow's confession about her slip into darkness had certainly thrown him for a loop, to say the least. But assuming it was true – she did say she'd lie to him, after all – then that would fit with Dumbledore's habit of giving people second chances. Did that mean that Harry was starting to think too much like Dumbledore? The same Dumbledore who had left him to rot for years at the Dursleys' tender mercies? Harry didn't want to think about that.

At the staff table, the Governors made way for Dumbledore to make his way out and escort them further into the castle. And Professor McGonagall was making her way over to the Gryffindor table.

Not waiting for her to come to him, Harry rose and walked to meet her in the aisle, Ron and Hermione following close behind him. "Professor," he began.

"My office, Potter. Miss Granger, Mister Weasley, you are welcome to accompany him, but if you must, follow after we have left the Great Hall."

Something was clearly afoot, if McGonagall was trying to include Ron and Hermione without giving the appearance that she wanted them involved. Harry silently followed McGonagall until they reached her office. She left the door open, and a few moments later, Harry's friends joined him, and Hermione closed the door behind her.

"Thank you. Now, I take it you three have noticed that we have some guests in the castle today."

"The Board of Governors, Professor?"

"Yes, Potter. You may remember that Lucius Malfoy held considerable sway over the Board during your second year. While he is no longer a Governor of this school, the Board is still a highly respected Wizarding institution in good standing with many of society's most influential members."

Harry listened to what McGonagall was saying without quite saying it. _They're high up and rich and on good terms with the Ministry. They have power and respect, and they want to keep it. _"I understand, Professor."

"I'm sure that you do, Potter. Ever since certain staff changes were made at the start of term, parents have been in increased communication with the Board of Governors, and as is the case with so many things, those who are angry are far more motivated to express their opinions than those who are content."

Harry simply nodded, knowing that he was meant to listen, not to speak.

"To put it simply, we are all being watched and judged. Do not give the Governors any reason to report anything untoward at Hogwarts."

"Sorry, Professor," Ron said, "but who would the Governors report to? Aren't they in charge? Uh, over some stuff, I mean?"

"Who indeed, Mister Weasley." Harry didn't need McGonagall to specify any further. "I think I've said what I need to say. You will be on your best behavior while the Governors are here. Am I making myself plain?"

"Yes, professor," the three of them chimed as one.

"Very good. You may go. I will see you in class later today. As will some of our guests."

Suitably warned, Harry nodded and exited McGonagall's office and headed back to the Great Hall. "That was intense."

"Tell me about it," Ron said. "D'you think they're here because of you or Rosenberg?"

"Probably both of them," Hermione said. "Harry cast the first stone by telling Dumbledore about You-Know-Who, and then Dumbledore made more trouble for the Ministry by backing him up publicly. Now, Rosenberg is taking that to a whole new level by speaking directly to us, where the _Prophet_can't censor anything.

"And Professor McGonagall implied that the Board would be observing our classes, which means that they'll be looking in on Rosenberg, most likely."

"What do we do about it?" Ron asked. "I mean, Defense Against the Dark Arts is nothing like it's been before, but it's not all bad, is it?"

"No, it isn't," Harry said, remembering their last lesson with Professor Rosenberg. They'd spent the class doing combat drills, learning to cast spells while moving, using well-placed chairs and desks for cover. It was a lot more difficult to cast a spell against a moving target while he was also moving. It had all felt like what Harry had expected the dueling club to be like in their second year before it was all ruined.

"It certainly is different, but is it any good?" Hermione posited. "Harry?"

"Huh?"

"Was Rosenberg's last lesson any good?"

"Why're you asking me?"

"Isn't it obvious? You've been in situations like that. The Chamber of Secrets, the lake with the Dementors, the graveyard. You've been in these life-or-death situations and you're still alive, Harry! Ron and I have been with you part of the way, but you're the only one who truly knows what it's like out there. Facing it all. Facing V-Voldemort."

Harry stopped to look at Hermione, as did Ron. It was the first time that Hermione had ever called Voldemort by his name. And the way she'd talked about his experiences, and how she was coming to him of all people to judge whether or not their teacher was any good… Who was he to make that kind of judgment?

"Rosenberg has a good feel for it," he said at last. "But it's nothing like the real thing. I mean, it can't be, right? Out there, you can't control what the other side is doing, and it isn't just for house points or to learn a lesson. It's live or die, and one mistake could be the end of it for you. But facing that kind of stuff… Our last class was a good start."

"A good start," Hermione repeated. "That may not be good enough. We need to get more than just a start."

"What're you thinking about, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Well," she said hesitantly, "I think we should start a defense club. Somewhere we can learn what it's really like out there, and prepare for life outside of school."

"It doesn't work like that, Miss Granger."

All three of them jumped and turned around to find Professor Rosenberg looking at them with a sad smile on her face. "Sorry for startling you, but you should have listened closer to Harry. Nothing can truly prepare you for a life-or-death situation except for experience. I'm doing the best I can in class, and I'm going to keep at it. But there's only so much that can be done without exposing you all to true danger."

"With all due respect, Professor," Hermione said carefully, though Harry noticed that she was struggling to keep her emotions in check, "Harry is the only one here who can say that he's faced V-Voldemort and survived."

Rosenberg sighed. "You're right. Harry has an insight into the enemy that nobody else has. And believe me, I would love nothing more than to keep calling on you, Harry, and share the truth of the matter for everyone to hear. But I can't do that as your teacher. I _can_, however, sponsor that club you had in mind, Hermione. It would be student-run, so you could teach whatever you wanted."

Harry was confused. "I thought you said that it wasn't worth the effort, Professor."

"I said that nothing can prepare you like real experience, but that doesn't mean that other preparation isn't worth anything. War is more than just fighting. Remember my lesson with Umbridge? Learning about deception, about identifying the true enemy, that's really important. Your whole class has seen how the Ministry works, but only Harry has seen how Voldemort works, personally. You have an insight into the enemy general's mind, Harry. You've seen the leader of the other army. This puts you in the best spot to point out his weaknesses and strengths to your classmates. And I won't mince words: you all will be an army of your own against Voldemort, or else you'll live in slavery when he takes over. Or, well, you'll die. Which is kind of a bad outcome."

Silence greeted her words for a few awkward moments.

"So," Ron said at last, "you think a defense club is a good idea?"

"I think it's a _really _good idea. You fill out the forms and then come to me, and I'll sign them as a sponsor. But don't make it too public just yet. Wouldn't want Frog-Face to get wind of what you're planning."

Harry chuckled at the nickname for Umbridge. It really fit her too well.

"Now, then," Rosenberg said. "You all have class in about, oh, five minutes, I think. If you're late, ask your professor to come see me about it."

"Th-thank you, Professor," Harry said.

"No problem. Now go on! Class now!"

Content to have the support of the woman he'd been talking about behind her back, Harry decided not to push his luck and get a move on to class. And that class was Potions. Harry resisted the urge to groan as he rushed towards the dungeons. Snape wouldn't give a damn about Rosenberg's permission if he was late. _Especially with the Governors watching._

* * *

><p>Willow walked into her classroom just as the bell rang to teach what was, in her mind, one of her more difficult classes. It wasn't that the students were stupid, or that they gave her a hard time. No, the problem was that they were fourth years. Too old to be treated like children, but too young to expose to certain dangers. Finding the right balance was key.<p>

To her surprise, there were two stern-looking robed men standing in the rear of the classroom. Willow recognized them from breakfast, and she assumed that these were two of the Governors of the school. Not knowing their names, Willow simply gave them a polite nod of the head before beginning her lesson.

"Good morning, everyone," she said cheerfully enough. "Before I take attendance, I just want to point out that we have guests today, so please be on your best behavior. Not that you aren't always on your best behavior," she said with a knowing smile. "Just let your behavior be more best than usual." The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws seated in front of her were kind enough to laugh with her before letting her take the roll call.

"All right. Now, if you've all done your reading, then one of you should be able to tell me what a Trojan Horse is." A number of hands shot up, with a few more Ravenclaws than Gryffindors ready to answer the question. "Okay, Colin. You're up."

Colin Creevey sat up in his seat. "The Trojan Horse was a giant horse made of wood that the Greeks hid soldiers in to sneak into Troy for an ambush."

Willow smiled at Colin's knowledge of the term's origin. "That is the basis for the term, yes, but it's come to take on a wider meaning. Anyone else? Yes, Luna?"

"Well, I do imagine that the horses that the Trojans rode around on would be Trojan horses. I think they might have been phosphorescent. But today, I think it rather means something hidden amongst friendly things that isn't really friendly at all. Not a very nice thing, really."

Willow chuckled, resisting the urge to frown when she saw that the Governors still looked stony and impassive. "No, not nice at all. Take five points for Ravenclaw. So, to expand upon that, a Trojan Horse is generally a kind of attack that is hidden until the last moment as something unassuming, or as something friendly. Can someone give me a good example of a Trojan Horse other than the one that started the term?"

Far fewer hands went up this time. "Hm, yes, Ginny?"

"Well, wouldn't a spy be the most obvious? Someone pretending to be your ally who's really your enemy?"

"Very good! That kind of spy would definitely be a Trojan Horse. But a spy is not always a Trojan Horse. For instance, espionage can include observing the enemy while hidden in the distance, or picking up a trail of gossip and finding the truth hidden within. You could plant a recording device on someone. That's spying, to be sure, but it takes real skill to play at a role, to earn the trust of someone or some people, while in truth you're their enemy.

"This brings me to what, I suppose, is the main point of this lesson. I've made no secret that I think the Ministry is lying to everyone, she said, and she thought the Governors' serious faces turned even sterner, "so I'm going to tell you right now that a war is already upon us, but it's being fought in the shadows at the moment. By going public with the truth of Voldemort's return, Harry Potter and Professor Dumbledore have alerted the populace and tried to put them on their guard. Only the Ministry is making it difficult for people to believe them.

"Now, the Ministry should, by all rights, want the people to be aware of any danger, so that they can serve you all better. But instead, they're doing everything they can to discredit anyone who tells the truth, thus giving the Death Eaters more time to build up their forces in secret, without being bothered, until they're ready to attack. Yes, what is it, Ginny?" she said, calling on her student as she noticed the Governors both looking rather foul.

"The Ministry shouldn't want us to be ignorant, but if it does, would that mean there's a spy – a Trojan Horse – in the Ministry itself?"

"Oh, probably far more than one, Ginny," Willow said. She thought she saw movement in the back of the room, as one stern face turned into something else entirely. "And not just in the Ministry. And, EVERYBODY DOWN!"

"_Avada Kedavra!_" a blond-haired Governor cried as a bolt of green light shot out Willow, with Ginny Weasley right in the line of fire. Only Willow's warning and the girl's quick reflexes saved Ginny from the deadly spell, and Willow herself only dodged just in time to avoid certain death.

Wand in hand, Willow pushed her class off to the side with magic and cleared the room for combat with the man trying to wreak havoc at Hogwarts. _"Murorum attollere." _From the floor, stone began to rise up and form walls that closed in on the assailant, forcing him to flee while the other Governor rushed over to where the class was watching in horror. Willow caught him and deemed him a non-threat.

The one who was a threat was heading for the door, but Willow threw up a wall between him and the door, and another one to pen him in.

"Stay where you are!" Willow shouted to her students and the non-evil Governor. She advanced slowly on the walls encasing the assailant.

_"Fieri non solidus," _she whispered, casting a spell upon herself as she observed the walls.

The stone exploded outward towards her, only to pass through her intangible body.

_"Torpesco!" _Willow cried immediately, and a flash of white light turned the attacking Governor to stone.

Once the dust from the exploding stone settled, Willow moved closer to observe the man, and she felt a wave of relief to see that he was indeed turned to stone. She would turn him back to question him, but only once there were no innocent kiddies in the way.

_"Finite," _she said quietly to herself, ending the spell that made her intangible.

She turned to her shocked class on the other side of the room, along with the other Governor, who was looking at her with far more respect than he had when she had first seen him in her classroom.

Willow took a deep breath and moved to sit down on her desk. She felt a bit exhausted; she hadn't used that much magic in a combat situation in quite a while. "And _that_, class, is a Trojan Horse. Any questions?"


	12. The Hidden Target

**Chapter Twelve: The Hidden Target**

* * *

><p>"So what <em>really <em>happened, Ginny?"

Ginny just glared at Ron. They were in the common room, classes having been cancelled after the attack. "What did you hear happened?"

"Well," Harry said, shifting in his seat in the Gryffindor common room, "the last person we talked to told us that Rosenberg turned into the ghost of a gorgon and locked the guy up in a dungeon that she created. Do you remember the one before that, Hermione?"

"Something having to do with her causing a tidal wave that swept the rest of the class off to the side before turning into a golem and beating him to death."

Ginny smacked herself. "Wow. The gossip here is really messed up."

"We know," Ron sad. "Which is why we're asking you what did happen. Why did you think I was asking?"

"Because you're thick as a rock?" Ginny suggested.

"Yes, well, density of Ron's skull aside for the moment," Fred said, "what _did _happen?"

Ginny sighed. "The first version was closer. Rosenberg pushed us all off to the side of the classroom – no water or other waves involved – and then she started to raise a bunch of walls out of the floor until he was bunched in. She then did something so that when he tried to blast his way out, the rock went right through her. She then cast a spell, and when we saw him next, he was made of stone."

"Whoa!" Fred and George were momentarily speechless. There hadn't been any attacks this direct at Hogwarts in a while. Oh, sure, there were almost annual indirect attacks against Harry in some form or another, but never just some random bloke charging in and waving his wand like this. "So, Rosenberg knows her stuff, then?"

"Definitely. She saw the guy taking out his wand and warned us just before he attack. If she hadn't, I think he might have hit me instead of the wall."

"What spell did he use?"

Ginny shuddered. "_Avada Kedavra,_" she whispered.

"WHAT?"

"You almost died!" Hermione cried out.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked urgently, feeling her forehead.

"Did any debris hit you?" Fred asked, holding her left wrist and checking for a pulse.

"Did anyone trample over you?" George said, checking Ginny's other wrist.

"Did any spiders get you?" Ron asked, checking her neck for bite marks.

Ginny just sat there trying not to squirm over the collective concerns of her friends and family. "I'm okay, everyone!" she said testily. "No cuts, no bruises, no bites, no death. No fever. Seriously, Harry, why were you feeling my forehead?"

"Sorry." They all shank back into their seats. "Reflex, you know?" Harry said weakly.

Ginny just shrugged. "Well, I'm fine. Not that I'm not grateful and don't feel well-loved, but seriously. I'm fine. And the spell almost hit Rosenberg after I ducked out of the way. She had to roll off to the side."

"So, who was the target?" Hermione asked. "You or Rosenberg? And why would one of the Governors do such a thing? It makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense, Hermione," Ron shot back. "She's been trying to get us all on our toes about You-Know-Who, so the guy was probably a Death Eater trying to keep the truth from getting out."

"But that's just it!" Hermione protested. "If he was a Death Eater, then this is the absolute _last_ thing that he would try to do. Think about it. The Ministry's smear campaign is working. For every parent out there who gets a good letter from their kids about things, there are dozens of people with no connection to anyone at Hogwarts who are all willing to believe whatever the Ministry says. If You-Know… If _Voldemort _was behind this, he was basically shouting to the world that he's back. That's the last thing he wants."

"So what, Hermione?" Harry said impatiently. "The guy just snapped?"

"He could've been a really die-hard Ministry supporter," Fred said fairly. "I mean, Rosenberg was going on one of her anti-Ministry lectures at the time, right?"

"Well, yeah, I guess she was," Ginny said thoughtfully. "I'm more worried about dad, though."

"What does dad have to do with this?" George asked.

"Well, McGonagall said that everyone who was there would have to testify to some Aurors about what happened, and if the Ministry has a written statement of me basically saying that a Ministry supporter tried to kill a really big Ministry critic, do you honestly think they won't sack him to keep it from looking like the Ministry has dissenters within it?"

"Oh my God!" Hermione exclaimed. "I hadn't thought about that."

"I don't think you have to worry about your dad. There were tons of other students in that classroom, and didn't you say that some of their parents work for the Ministry as well?"

"Yeah, Harry, but I was the one in the crossfire, along with Rosenberg. None of the other students came as close to being hit as I did."

"Oh, no."

"What, Ron? What is it?"

"Ginny… I think you might just be The Girl Who Lived."

Fred and George both smacked their younger brother across the head. "Don't be an idiot, Ron."

"I'm serious. Think about it. Ginny was the student who almost died. You're going to be the one getting the most questions from everyone else now. Just like Harry whenever he's involved with one of the big things that isn't his fault, but he gets dragged into the spotlight anyway? I think that's you now."

Ginny chuckled nervously. "That's nonsense, Ron." She looked to her brothers and friends for confirmation of her statement, but only found grim looks. "That's nonsense," she repeated. "Right?"

"I don't think so, Ginny," Harry said, putting a comforting hand on hers. "But if it makes you feel any better, I've been there tons of times, so I'll do my best to help you through it. If it happens, I mean. It might not. "

"But you think it will."

Nobody said a word for a very long time.

* * *

><p>Willow walked into the staff room, hovering the stone form of the attacker in front of her with her wand. The entire faculty was gathered, along with the remaining eleven Governors as well as three Aurors who had arrived a few hours ago. Another three were escorting Willow and the captive inside.<p>

"Now that we are all gathered," Dumbledore said seriously, "I would like to-"

"Hem-hem."

"Yes, Madam Umbridge?" Dumbledore said politely.

"I don't mean to intrude, Headmaster," Frog-Face said with false sweetness, "but I do believe that as the senior Ministry official present, that I should be the one to conduct this proceeding."

"You are, indeed, the senior member of the Ministry of Magic, Dolores." Willow did not miss the look on the pink-clad monstrosity's face at the lack of her title. "But as this assault occurred within Hogwarts castle, against Hogwarts students and faculty…"

"Um, Albus?" one of the Governors interrupted.

"Hm? Yes, Governor Yaxley?"

"With all due respect, Headmaster," though the sharp-faced man showed little respect in his voice, "Hogwarts is not a governmental body, and has no jurisdiction over any crime committed here. The punishment of crime is, by definition, the charge of the Ministry."

Willow stared at the man viciously, and she could have sworn she saw his right hand stroking his left forearm gently.

Dumbledore did not show any signs of anger or hostility, but merely nodded his head. "You are, of course, correct. My apologies, Madam Umbridge."

"Apology accepted, Albus." Willow saw Frog-Face beam with delight at getting to 'get back' at Dumbledore's slight of her position, but she doubted Dumbledore cared in the slightest what the bitch called him.

"Hem-hem. Now, Governor Dooley," she said to the middle-aged, blond-haired man who had also been present at the time of the attack. "Can you describe for us what happened in Professor Rosenberg's classroom earlier today? Perhaps shed some light on what provoked the attack?"

The man, Dooley, looked puzzled by Frog-Face's choice of words. "The attack was unprovoked, Madam Umbridge. He just shot off a Killing Curse at Professor Rosenberg. Or, it might have been one of her students. Yes, there was definitely a student right in the path of the spell. The Professor's warning saved her life."

"For which we are all very grateful," Umbridge said with her sickeningly sweet voice, "but if you could indulge me, Governor, what was the class covering when this madman attacked?"

"Well," Dooley said, "she was lecturing the class on espionage, and put forth the theory that You-Know-Who had infiltrated the Ministry, as well as possibly other organizations."

"Well, there you have it," Umbridge said with finality. "Professor Rosenberg's slanderous accusations proved too much for Governor Moore to handle, and he lost control and attacked her."

Willow snapped her head to face Umbridge and felt her rage begin to build. "You'd better think _very_carefully before you say another word, bitch."

"Willow!" Dumbledore said harshly. "That will do. Calm yourself."

Umbridge, however, merely smiled. "Surely, it is clear that Professor Rosenberg is a teensy bit unstable. Are we quite sure that she did not, in fact, attack first?"

"We are _very _sure!" Dooley said hotly. "I had come to Hogwarts expecting to find a raving madwoman, but I found a calm and level-headed young woman who likely saved the lives of everyone in that room!"

Umbridge took a step back, as if slapped. Willow guessed that she had taken the entire Board of Governors' support for granted. But now, the rest of the Governors were looking at Dooley as though for the first time, and then they turned to look at Willow, and suddenly, she didn't feel quite as alone as she had earlier in the day. Only Yaxley, of all the Governors, seemed unimpressed.

"And Professor Rosenberg is to be commended for her valiant efforts," Umbridge said bitterly. "But the evidence for provocation remains."

"There is another possibility, Dolores," Dumbledore said.

"And what might that be, Headmaster?"

"It is possible that Professor Rosenberg was correct that Lord Voldemort has infiltrated organizations apart from the Ministry, and that one such agent attempted to assassinate her today."

"Oh, I doubt that, Dumbledore." Something about Umbridge's voice, how she almost sang the words, made Willow's hackles rise.

"Um, if I could say something?" Willow said tensely.

"Yes, Willow?" Dumbledore said.

"Well, I did turn the guy to stone, but he's not dead. Just in a different state of animation. I can undo it so we can, you know, question him. I don't suppose we have any truth serum or anything like that handy, do we?"

"I brought up a vial of Veritaserum," Snape said quietly, producing a small container of a transparent liquid from his robes.

"As it so happens, I did as well," Umbridge said, pulling her own vial out of a pocket of her dress. "I am sure your skills are quite adequate, Professor Snape, but this is a Ministry interrogation, so we will use a Ministry-made potion for the job. I'm sure you understand."

The sneer on Snape's lips could not be faked, Willow thought, as she realized that the man took immense pride in his work. The remark about being merely 'adequate' clearly stung more than he was letting on. "I understand perfectly," he managed to say with as much politeness as he ever showed.

"Excellent. Now, then, Professor Rosenberg, if you would undo your spell, please?"

Willow sighed in resignation before raising her wand. "_Finite._"

The man's wand already removed to the Aurors' custody, Governor Moore reverted back to flesh and blood. He gasped for a moment before the Aurors restrained him magically while Umbridge dropped three drops of what probably wasn't Veritaserum into his mouth.

"Governor Moore," Umbridge said seriously, "earlier today, you attempted to murder Professor Willow Rosenberg."

"That's right," the young, blond man snarled.

"Would you care to explain what drove you to such action?"

"Do I have to? The bitch is railing against everything that our world stands for! The sanctity of the Ministry was at risk! The other Governors were content to follow procedure until our world's youth had been corrupted beyond repair! Only I saw things clearly enough to do anything about it!"

"You do realize," Willow said coldly, "that there was a student in your line of fire. You sure you weren't trying to kill the youth you care so much about?"

"Indeed," Umbridge said with a look of triumph, "you put a student in harm's way. What ever were you thinking?"

The man looked ready to protest to Umbridge directly, but then sighed. He looked defeated all of a sudden. He didn't look guilty, though. Willow had seen plenty of guilt in her day, and this wasn't it. No, this was a look she had seen when someone had been played for a fool, and they had just found out how badly they had been played.

"I acted rashly," he said at last. "I was stupid. I should have come at Rosenberg when there were no students present."

"I'm glad you see the error of your ways," Umbridge said proudly. She gestured to the Aurors. "Take him away."

The Aurors did as they were told, and Moore went silently with them.

"Well," Umbridge said huffily, "this has all been a very enlightening experience. I need to report what has transpired to the Minister. Good day to you all."

A round of "good day's" went around the room. The Board of Governors stayed for a short while longer to talk frankly with the staff, as they had intended to all along.

"Professor Rosenberg," an elderly woman said, "on behalf of the entire Board, I would like to apologize for Ross's actions against you and your class. I thought I knew him, but I was clearly mistaken. I may not agree with your views on the Ministry, but after listening to Herbert," she said, gesturing to Dooley, "It is clear that you know what you are teaching, and that you definitely have your students' best interests at heart."

The woman – Willow recalled that her last name was Fitzwinkle, and then she tried not to giggle – took Willow's hand in her own. "And particularly on Herbert's behalf… He is a dear friend, and I cannot tell you how much it means that you saved his life."

"Hear, hear!" the Governors all said, Yaxley's voice noticeably softer than the others.

Willow suddenly realized that she had passed a major test without even meaning to. She suddenly felt like she was on stage, and then she remembered she had stage fright. "I… I just did what I had to do," she said meekly. "I mean, I wasn't just gonna stand there while he tried to kill people. A-and I'm sorry if my curriculum is kind of anti-Ministry and such. But call me paranoid, I guess. I just want my students to be prepared for an attack from anywhere. I mean, if one of you is a bad guy, then who's to say there isn't someone in the Ministry who isn't capable of something worse, y'know?"

Yaxley cleared his throat. "Such things are admirable, Professor. But surely you understand that teaching about _espionage _isn't exactly going to help your students survive an encounter with such a madman."

"No, it won't," Willow agreed. "But it might help them catch him before he goes on a rampage. Especially if he isn't mad."

"Well said. Today certainly proved that Dark Wizards aren't easy to identify," Herbert Dooley said.

"Very true," Willow agreed, her eyes never leaving Yaxley. "You just need to look in the right places."

"Well," Dumbledore said convivially, "if you will excuse us, we have to see to our students and make sure that they are informed of what has transpired."

A few polite farewells later, the Governors had gone on their way, and the House Heads had gone to see to their students. "Willow," Dumbledore said, "may I see you in my office?"

Not replying verbally, Willow merely followed the old man up the spiral staircase to his office. She had known going into this that Dumbledore was a cunning manipulator, but right now she wasn't so much afraid of him as she was really hoping that he had a plan to save them from whatever was coming next.

"Umbridge is up to something. Something really, really not-good."

"Is that so?" Dumbledore said idly, though his face showed no signs of levity. "What do you suspect?"

"I don't know. But when that guy, Moore confessed, he was bragging proudly about what he'd done. And let's face it: Hogwarts governors are not typically lunatics. Either this guy was bought off to try something, or else he's an impostor."

"I do not think he is an impostor," Dumbledore said. "It is probable that he underestimated you and believed he could get away with murder."

"No, there's more to it," Willow said, feeling very afraid. "If I hadn't told the class to duck when I did, then a student would be dead. And when Umbridge pointed that out to the guy, I saw his face real clearly. He knew that he had almost hit a student. He wasn't upset that he had almost killed an innocent girl. He looked defeated, but not by his own mistake. He looked at Umbridge as if she was his life preserver, but then he had to look away from her. He had to take one for the team."

Dumbledore sat up and leaned in towards Willow. "You are leveling a very serious accusation. And you have no proof to support your theory."

"I notice, Headmaster, that you aren't disputing me," she said wryly.

"I am not," he confirmed. "But neither am I entirely certain that you are correct."

"Umbridge planned all of this, sir. Well, not her, personally. She's too stupid. But someone in the Ministry did plan this. I just know it!"

"And what do you intend to do about it?" Dumbledore asked. "You cannot bring this up in your classes. You will be seen as a conspiracy theorist, which would play into Dolores Umbridge's hands quite nicely."

"I know that, sir," Willow growled. "I just hate feeling helpless. I just know, somehow, that Ross Moore wasn't the real Trojan Horse, but that this entire incident was."

"I am inclined to agree with you, Willow. But until the contents of that Trojan Horse are revealed, there is little we can do. If Hogwarts is Troy, then the Horse has already penetrated the gates."

"I know, Headmaster. I'm just scared about what's gonna come out."

* * *

><p>"Harry! HARRY!"<p>

"What is it?" Harry shot awake at Hermione's panicked cries. She was in his dorm room sounding more distressed than he could recall.

"What happened, Hermione?" Ron said nervously.

"The attack, Harry. It wasn't aimed at Ginny _or_Rosenberg."

"What are you talking about? Who else could it have been aimed at?"

"Not who, Harry. What. The attack was against all of us. Against all of Hogwarts."

"I don't understand. Ron, is this making any sense to you?"

"Both of you, just come down to the common room! It's on the notice board."

Harry reluctantly got out of bed and walked down to the common room, where a bunch of students were huddled around the notice board. None of them looked as scared as Hermione, which made Harry think that either Hermione had lost it, or that she was seeing something that the other students didn't because she was Hermione. She had seen through Umbridge's boring speech at the Welcome Feast for what it truly was.

Finally Harry got to the board and read the notice…

_BY THE ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_

_In response to recent acts of aggression against the students and faculty of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry of Magic is announcing the formation of a revolutionary new Safety Service to patrol Hogwarts for the purposes of protecting the faculty and student body from any dangerous elements with malicious or seditious intent. The Safety Service – henceforth abbreviated as the SS – shall have ultimate authority in matters of security on Hogwarts premises. Undersecretary Dolores Jane Umbridge shall have ultimate authority over the SS._

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-three._

Harry was too stunned to speak. This couldn't be!

"I don't get it," Ron said. "What does it mean? This SS?"

"It means," Hermione said, voice trembling, "that Umbridge now has her own police force in charge of making sure that Hogwarts is 'safe' from anyone she thinks is a threat. She can have any of us, maybe even Dumbledore, arrested on a whim. All for the good of 'protecting' us."

"Hogwarts," Harry said with balled fists, fighting tears, "It's... It's..."

"It's become a police state!" Hermione cried out. "The Ministry has conquered Hogwarts."


	13. Guard Dogs

**Chapter Thirteen: Guard Dogs**

* * *

><p>As Harry walked through the castle to his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he realized that Hogwarts – the only place he had ever felt truly at home in his entire life – was now enemy territory. Operatives of the SS were stationed practically everywhere. They were in the corridors, in the Great Hall, in the classrooms, on the grounds, and guarding the entrance to the common rooms. It seemed as though the dormitories themselves were the only places safe from the SS.<p>

The changes had come about gradually, but it was increasingly clear that the Ministry – likely under Voldemort's hidden orders – was turning everything that made Hogwarts great into something nasty and evil. Just the sight of an SS agent was a fear-inspiring thing. Robed entirely in black, with only the eyes uncovered, the typical SS agent resembled nothing so much as a sick hybrid of a Dementor and a ninja.

Things had started out simply enough. The SS had just stood around for the most part, silent and unmoving as the castle went about its business as usual. Apart from the SS itself, the only really noticeable change at first was the content of Professor Rosenberg's lessons. Her anti-Ministry talk had all but disappeared in a heartbeat. She wasn't trumpeting the cause of the Wizarding government, but neither was she voicing her discontent so loudly.

It had not gone unnoticed by the students, which had led to a scene in the Great Hall at breakfast a week after the attack. Three Hufflepuffs – Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Zacharias Smith – were talking amongst themselves about how different Rosenberg's lessons had seemed from when they first met her on the Hogwarts Express. The talk had turned to suspicion about the Ministry putting pressure on her to change her lessons.

Harry and the rest of his house only knew about this thanks to Ginny, who had been passing by the Hufflepuff table on the way to breakfast at the time when four SS agents appeared to escort the three Hufflepuffs away for 'questioning.' Ginny had protested quite loudly, but the SS insisted that after the attack against her, their mandate called for intervention against malice or sedition, and the three Hufflepuffs were being taken away for the latter.

They had been a bit late to their second lesson for that day, and while they didn't look as though they'd been hurt, they did look terrified, and refused to talk about what had happened with anyone. Gossip had been rampant, but for once, no one seemed to believe any of it.

Professor Sprout had tried to talk to her students the next day to try to help them, only for an SS agent to try to escort her away from her students. She had raised her voice against the operative, only for a wand to be drawn against her in full view of the entire Great Hall.

Ironically enough, Umbridge had been the one to intervene and stop any harm from coming to Professor Sprout, but she had also taken the opportunity to emphasize that acting against – or even voicing dissent against – the SS was tantamount to threatening Hogwarts, and thus subject to an unspecified penalty.

Only the Gryffindor common room seemed to Harry to be a safe enough place to talk freely, and even there, he wasn't sure who was watching or listening. It soon became habit to extinguish the fires to prevent anyone from eavesdropping by Floo.

Weeks passed with only a few minor incidents, but all were essentially the same. The offending student would be taken away for questioning – whatever that truly was – only to return too afraid to say anything about it.

Indeed, no one seemed to be saying much of anything these days. The hustle and bustle in the corridors between classes, once full of friends chatting with their friends, was now a silent and somber affair. Everyone was too afraid to talk about anything for fear that it would be seen as 'threatening.'

Harry had been looking forward to the first Quidditch game of the season, just as a way to forget about school for a while. The realization had shocked him. He had _never _wanted to forget about school. Classes, he might want to leave behind on occasion, but school was Hogwarts, and Hogwarts was amazing.

But that was in the past. Hogwarts was no longer what it had once been, and then even Quidditch had been denied him. The SS had decreed that due to unspecified threats against undisclosed members of the Gryffindor team, Slytherin was automatically decreed the loser of the game, with 150 points being awarded to Gryffindor.

Harry had been dumbstruck by this move. He had suspected that Umbridge was out to make his life hell, but he hadn't expected her to be helping Gryffindor at all. In fact, she was acting in the exact opposite way that he had thought she would, always naming Gryffindors as the victims whenever someone was 'brought in for questioning.' Ginny's name was invoked more than once.

Ron had been right. Ginny was 'the Girl Who Lived,' and he was right that it would bite her in the rear. Everywhere he went, Harry saw glares of hate and resentment from everyone in the other houses. Almost as many of those glares were directed at Ginny as they were at himself. It was really quite ingenious of Umbridge, now that he thought about it. By performing acts of evil in the name of Harry and his friends, the SS was successfully turning the rest of Hogwarts against them. But nobody dared say anything aloud. Everyone was clearly too scared to say or do anything within reach of the SS.

As he sat down at his desk in Rosenberg's classroom, Harry wondered why his Defense professor was staying as silent as she was. Despite being a bit of an unknown, Rosenberg had been one of his greatest allies, even if he hadn't realized it at the time. Remembering what had happened with Professor Sprout, though, he wondered if she wasn't trying to keep any of the students from saying anything by accident that would get them picked up by the SS.

November was almost over now, and for the first time in his life, Harry found himself looking forward to the winter holidays. For the first time, he wanted out of Hogwarts. And he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to come back once the holiday was over.

The bell rang, by which time the students were already in their seats. No one was ever late to class anymore. Being in the corridors between classes was not tolerated by the SS. Harry suspected that not even the teachers were immune to this rule, as he had yet to see any of his professors enter any later than the students. But they weren't even safe here in the classroom, with two SS agents guarding the door, cutting off any attempt at escape.

Even so, Defense Against the Dark Arts was more important now than ever, and even with the looming threat of Umbridge and her secret police, he was still learning. That was the only bright spot in his world right now: class work.

"Good afternoon, class," Rosenberg said. Her face was cold and serious, but Harry knew that her cool attitude was directed at the guards in the back of the classroom rather than at any of the students. "Today we're going to take a look at some more theory-based aspects of defense. Specifically, we'll be talking about works of fiction that have inspired or been inspired by the doings of evildoers around the world. Please take notes, as this is an incredibly important lesson that has relevance to certain current events."

Harry watched the class sit up attentively and reflected on the irony of the situation. Since the rise of the SS, Rosenberg had been teaching almost exclusively practical lessons, and even these were tame compared to her earliest classes involving classrooms made to resemble arenas. Her lectures had been insightful and, more importantly, critical of the Ministry.

When it was clear she had their full attention, she smiled. "Now, some of you may be familiar with this particular work of fiction, and some of you will probably not be. For those who already know what I'm talking about, I'd like you to try not to let your thoughts wander too far, as some of the stuff you may have found boring before may be far more important now.

"With that said, this story is about a vast civilization spanning many worlds in a galaxy far, far away. It was called the Republic, and peace reigned there for thousands of years. But then, some of the people grew unhappy with the way the government was running things, and they tried to secede. That is, they tried to leave the Republic and form their own government. I know, I know, other planets and such, it's kind of out there, right? But this is fiction. I'm going somewhere with this.

"So, the Separatists were determined to secede, and they were led by a man named Dooku. It was all because of him that so many people were convinced that they had to leave the Republic. But then it was discovered that the Separatists were gearing up for war. That is to say, they were getting ready to declare war if they had to.

"But they didn't. The mere threat of them declaring war was enough to convince the Republic, led by a man named Palpatine, to attack first. Dooku escaped the first battle, and the war lasted for years. Millions of people died.

"But as the war went on, strange things started to happen. Since the Separatists were attacking Republic worlds left and right, Palpatine argued that he needed the power to act on his own to protect his people. It's as if, let's say, the Ministry of Magic told us that because there was a danger to the people that they would need even more power so that they could protect them. Are you with me so far, everyone?"

Harry risked a glance back at the SS agents, who stood eerily still, not even blinking. He returned his glance to Rosenberg and nodded mutely, noticing that the rest of the class was just as stunned as he was.

"Okey dokey. Glad you're all following the story. So, the people were afraid, so they allowed Palpatine to have more and more power. But then, as the war entered its final days, people were starting to worry that Palpatine had _too much_power, and so two thousand people signed a petition asking him to let go of some of that power.

"But to question the power of the Supreme Chancellor was – under the laws he had personally created with his new power – equal to treason, and these people were locked up unless they took back what they'd said so that no one would ever believe that anyone doubted Palpatine.

"And the war did finally come to an end, and Dooku died. But here's the twist that wasn't discovered until it was too late. Palpatine and Dooku were on the same side, namely their own. They played the entire galaxy for fools, pitting entire worlds against each other while they secretly hoarded their power. But in the end, Palpatine was too clever for Dooku, and after he had his partner killed, he took control over the entire galaxy as its undisputed Emperor.

"For decades after that, Palpatine's word was law, and he stopped pretending to care what anyone else thought. Anyone who so much as thought out loud against him was arrested and never seen from again. If one person in a city spoke out, the entire city would be leveled. If one city spoke out, it might be an entire continent, or even a world, that was razed to the ground.

"It wasn't until people stopped being afraid and started being angry that things started to change. Too angry to let the injustice continue any longer, a band of Rebels fought back, winning small victory after small victory, steadily gaining support until the Emperor underestimated them and laid a trap. But the Rebels were more prepared than he had anticipated, and they sprung the trap and escaped it, leaving the Emperor dead, and the Galaxy a free place once again.

"So!" Rosenberg said with new found cheer. "Let's think about this story in a more contemporary sense. Let's say that the Separatists were here, in Hogwarts, in the form of an assassin. And let's say that the Republic is the Ministry, which formed the SS in response to the assassin. And remember, class, the leaders of both sides were secretly working together. Any thoughts? Questions, comments, anyone?"

Harry wanted to speak up. He really did. He wanted to yell out for everyone to hear that Rosenberg's little example was exactly the truth. He didn't know it for certain, but he highly doubted that they'd be listening to this lecture if it weren't the case. He looked around to the rest of his classmates, and it was clear that everyone else was also too scared to say anything. Even the Slytherins wore faces of fear rather than triumph.

But Rosenberg did not frown. She actually smiled and snapped her fingers. "Oh, right. Silly me. You can't say anything against the SS or the Ministry or anything, really, without those two idiots in the back taking you away to do Gods-know-what to you. And really, I'm just as fed up with them as you all are. I'm sure that there must be _someone_in this classroom willing to do something about them. Right?"

A scuffle broke out in the back of the classroom, causing everyone's head to turn. The two SS agents were being assaulted by something invisible. Harry couldn't tell what was going on, but it was clear that something was hitting them and hitting them hard. It was barely two seconds before they were both unconscious.

Rosenberg sighed. "Whew. That was easier than I thought it'd be. Can you bring them up here, please?"

"Couldja at least make us visible again, Red?" a familiar female voice said from the rear of the room. "Don't want Ken tripping over me and hurting herself, right?"

"Shut up, Faith," another familiar voice said indignantly.

"All right, all right! Gods, what are you? Ten?" With a wave of Rosenberg's hand, the air shimmered, and two women Harry recognized shimmered into visibility: Faith and Kennedy. "Now, then, could you bring them up here? We've got Part Two of the lesson, remember?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Red," Faith said as she picked one of the SS agents up over her shoulder and brought him over to the front of the classroom.

"Now, class, before I continue, I want to introduce you to Faith and Kennedy. They're friends from back in the States, and since I was attacked by a vicious man who almost killed me," she said with a bit of a wink, "I decided to hire a couple of bodyguards, if you get what I mean. But I couldn't just invite anyone into the castle, so I had to wait until all the paperwork was filled out and now, the two of them are legitimate representatives of Cerberus Securities. Anyone know the legend of Cerberus?"

Harry didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. Rosenberg had just staged a coup to take back her own classroom, and she wanted them to answer a question about something else entirely.

The shock didn't seem to stop Hermione, however, who seemed to retain the ability to raise her hand under even the most adverse of circumstances.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"C-Cerberus was a giant three-headed dog in Greek myth," she said with a shaky smile at Ron and Harry. "I-it guarded the Underworld and kept anything from escaping."

Rosenberg smiled. "Correct. I'd give you some house points, but I'm guessing you all don't really care about that right now."

Harry was shocked to find himself agreeing with her. What did house points matter when this place wasn't really Hogwarts. "So, Cerberus Securities," he said carefully, "makes sure that what was sent to Hell, stays in Hell."

Faith smiled. "I knew I liked this kid!"

"Down, Faith," Red said with a chuckle. "But you're right, Harry. Cerberus Securities specializes in threats that certain governmental entities aren't prepared to handle. I swear, they have a sixth sense for things that don't belong. And you guys found something in this very classroom, didn't you? Two somethings, I believe you told me."

Kennedy chuckled. "You're really winding them up, aren't you, Will?"

"Hush, you. Now, class, please come in and form a circle around these two SS agents. We're going to unmask them so that you can see the kind of people who are _really _looking out for your well-being, if Umbridge is to be believed. Faith, the masks, if you please?"

As the class huddled around, Faith pulled off the masks of the two SS goons to reveal a pair of ugly faces, one male and one female. It looked like they might be related.

"Good. Now, Kennedy, the sleeves."

"With pleasure!" Kennedy said as she held either agent's left sleeve with one hand and yanked them back.

The class gasped and recoiled as one as a pair of black Dark Marks were revealed on the flesh of the forearms of the two SS agents.

"All right, class! Please retake your seats." Harry had to laugh as Rosenberg told them all to sit down as if she hadn't revealed two Death Eaters in the classroom with them. "People, please! Calm down! I promise you all that these two… That these two _things_will prove quite adequate test dummies for future classes. Just picture it. Practicing your attack spells against these former SS agents over and over and over again!"

The class couldn't help but laugh at the unabashed glee in Rosenberg's voice, and soon, they were in fact sitting down. Harry felt as though a great weight had been lifted off his chest, and he could breathe freely for the first time in months.

"Now that we've gotten rid of any prying eyes and ears," Rosenberg said, "Any questions?"

* * *

><p>It took all of Harry's willpower to keep from talking in the halls after he left Rosenberg's classroom. What she would do with the two Death Eaters was out of his control, but he was so glad that they wouldn't just be lying down and surrendering anymore. If Harry had to venture a guess, he'd say that Cerberus Securities had an 'office' right next door in Hogsmeade, ready to come running at a moment's notice.<p>

His only concern was the Slytherin element, but even that was less than it might have been had Umbridge played things differently. By trying to force the entire school to hate Gryffindor, Harry was guessing that there were probably more than a few Slytherins who hated Umbridge for what the SS had done to Hogwarts. Slytherin hating Gryffindor was nothing new, but forcing them to share that misery with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff might lead to a show of solidarity. Harry just hoped that they didn't all hate him too much to help him.

"So, we're still doing this, then?" Ron asked nervously in the cold, candle-lit common room.

"Yeah, we're doing it. I doubt the SS will let it happen without a fight, but we're going to make this defense club happen. I'd almost forgotten about Voldemort, to be honest, with all that the SS has been doing. But after today… After today, we can't put this off any longer."

"Hear, hear!" Fred and George chimed in. "But we've got to have a cool name."

"No, we can't," Hermione said. "If we put a radical name to something, then it'll draw too much attention to us."

"Well, how about an acronym with a hidden meaning," Harry suggested. "Like those movies that we learned about today. After the Empire took over, the good guys were called the Rebel Alliance, so about we call ourselves the RA?"

"I like it," Ginny said, "But instead of 'Rebel Alliance,' let's make it 'Rosenberg's Army.' Because, seriously, I've seen what she can do." The rest of them fell silent after a brief round of chuckles, the reminder of Ginny's near-brush with death sobering them up.

"I'd fight with her," Ginny said firmly. "And she'd fight with us. She _is_fighting with us!"

Harry looked from face to face, and he saw no disagreement there. "All right, then. Rosenberg's Army it is. So, we have a name. Now comes the hard part."


	14. Confrontation

Chapter Fourteen: Confrontation

* * *

><p>"Let's go over this once more before the trip, okay?"<p>

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry and nodded solemnly as they planned for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend in the common room. "I've enchanted these galleons so that whenever one of us charms them to change their markings – the ones that usually show which goblin made it and when – all of the other ones we've spread about will change as well so that the other houses know where we're meeting."

"Brilliant, Hermione!" Ron said with genuine admiration. "And didn't Angelina say that this is NEWT level stuff?"

"Well, yes," Hermione said, blushing. "But if it helps, then it helps."

"You don't hear me complaining," Harry said.

"But what about the SS?" Ron said quietly, as if they could hear him even in the safety of the common room with the fire doused. "Won't they be around?"

"They can't be, Ron," Hermione reassured him. "Their authority is only within Hogwarts."

"That won't stop some 'concerned citizens' from spying on us and reporting back to the SS. Or maybe they will be SS just without their uniforms. We don't know what they look like except for… Well, you know."

The three friends sat silently for a moment as they contemplated what Dumbledore and Rosenberg would do with the two Death Eaters in the SS. Harry wondered if they would expose them or keep them hidden. Exposing them might make the rest of the world take notice about Voldemort, but that could just give the Ministry a bigger excuse to police the school.

"How did she know they were there?" Hermione put forth. "I mean, the kind of magic used to create the Dark Mark is something I know little about, but if it was so easily detectable, then we wouldn't have the kind of trouble we do with spies, and the Ministry would get off its great big arse and start helping!"

"Whoa! Calm down, Hermione," Ron said carefully. "You're not going to go on one of your big anti-Rosenberg rants again, are you?"

"Oh, of course not, Ron. It's obvious that she's on our side. It has been for a while. She's just such a different kind of witch than what we're used to that it makes me a bit wary."

"I don't think it was Rosenberg," Harry said quietly.

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"Well, I think she was trying to tell us – well, trying to tell me, I guess – that the other two women in the room were the ones who spotted the Dark Marks. They're both Slayers. I met them over the summer."

"Whoa! So, they're super-strong, right?"

"More than that, Ron. I don't remember everything, but I'm guessing that there's some sort of sixth sense that they get as well."

"Harry, we've been over this," Hermione said patiently. "They can't be Slayers. Or if they are, then it can only be one of them. I mean, do you really have any sort of proof that they really are anything more than women and girls who are in top physical shape?"

"Well, no, not exactly," Harry said carefully. "But I remember watching them – no Ron, not watching like _that_– and thinking that they all moved in a certain way... It was like watching a fusion of a Quidditch star and a Death Eater, I guess."

Ron almost choked. "Could you help me not feel so terrified of them, Harry?"

"Sorry, Ron. I guess I don't have anything else to compare them to. I mean, they know their bodies well, like a Quidditch player. But they also reminded me of some of the Death Eaters I saw in the graveyard. Not evil, but more like they were on the hunt. Kind of like a tiger I saw on the telly during the summer at Mrs. Figg's place."

"Predators," Hermione whispered.

"Yeah, that sounds right," Harry agreed. "And they weren't all as old as Faith and Kennedy. Most of them were our age or younger. And don't forget their little company."

"You mean Cerberus Securities, Harry? You think it's a front for this Council of theirs?"

"I know it is, Hermione. If there's one thing that Rosenberg's been trying to teach me – to teach all of us – is that the only rule is that you do whatever you have to in order to survive. If this lot is going to try anything over here, then they're going to have to at least pretend to be a respectable part of Wizarding society. I'm guessing that 'Cerberus Securities' has been in the works since before term started."

"You really think so, mate?" Ron seemed skeptical, but hopeful. "I mean, does this mean we have an army of Death Eater-beating-up girls on our side?"

"It might, Ron. But if we don't, then we still need to plan out the RA and get it set up."

"Right," Hermione said. "So, Ron and I have spread the galleons around at prefects' meetings, so the other houses will be able to get the message. I don't know why you thought it would be a good idea to include the Slytherins, Harry, but neither Draco nor Pansy would talk to us. I think it's just force of habit by now. We got one of the sixth year prefects to take one, though. I don't know him that well, though, so this is a gamble."

"It's a gamble we've got to take, Hermione. It's like the Sorting Hat said at the start of the year: either we all stand together, or we stay apart and we all go down one by one."

* * *

><p>Willow stood in Dumbledore's office feeling distinctly uncomfortable. It wasn't the cunning old man behind the desk that had her unnerved, nor was it the other members of the Order of the Phoenix, nor was it the two Death Eaters who were bound, gagged, and hovering in the air, invisible. No, Willow was just unused to being flanked by two 'bodyguards' who had decided to take their new roles to a ludicrous extreme for what Willow was positive was for the sole purpose of unnerving her.<p>

"You guys can stop being all stiff, y'know," she tried for the umpteenth time. Faith and Kennedy stood on either side of her, hands crossed in front of her, standing straight and stiff. At least she'd gotten them to take off their shades.

"No, ma'am. Can't do that," Kennedy said with an impossibly straight face.

"Oh, come on! Faith, you can't possibly be serious about this?"

"Sorry, ma'am. Official business policy."

"Since when have you cared about official anything?"

"As amusing as it is to watch you squirm in discomfort, Miss Rosenberg," Snape sneered from the other side of the room, "I would much rather hear your ideas as to what to do with the two Death Eaters you captured."

"Did you recognize them, Severus?" McGonagall asked.

"Amycus and Alecto Carrow," the Potions Master replied coolly. "Good for nothing but mindless extra muscle. The Dark Lord likely thought that they could report back to him with direct word of Rosenberg's lessons if they didn't expose themselves. If they had any presence of mind, they would have kept up the role of SS agents and intervened in her lesson before it got to the point that it did."

"Hello? Standing right here," Willow protested.

Kennedy nodded. "That you are, ma'am."

"Hush, you."

"Severus," Dumbledore said from behind his desk, "would you please go to the dungeons and fetch your strongest batch of truth serum? Minerva, I would like for you to please fetch Madam Umbridge. I believe she needs to see what her changes have wrought."

"Are you sure this is wise, Headmaster?" Snape asked. "If Umbridge acts as stubbornly as she usually is, this may only invite further intervention at Hogwarts."

"I believe the term for this is 'beyond her pay grade,' Severus. I have been in contact with the Ministry, and Minister Fudge and Aurors Dawlish and Shacklebolt will be arriving shortly as well."

Willow nodded silently at the mention of Kingsley Shacklebolt, who she knew to be a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Well, off to it with you," Dumbledore said, shooing McGonagall and Snape from his office.

The two teachers shared a grim look before departing to carry out their assigned tasks, leaving Willow and her 'bodyguards' alone with the Headmaster.

"Well," Dumbledore said jovially, "the two of you have done remarkable work in apprehending two fugitives," he said to Faith and Kennedy. "I don't suppose your company would be open to an arrangement with Hogwarts involving a more permanent security presence?"

Willow failed to suppress a grin at the prospect of Slayers running about the halls of Hogwarts – or anywhere, really – in any sort of official capacity.

"You'd have to talk to Giles, Big D," Faith said. "He's the boss when it comes to stuff like that."

Willow put a hand to her forehead. "'Big D,' Faith? Really?"

"I have been called far worse in my day," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "I have heard Willow speak rather fondly of this Mister Giles before. Quite the expert on things usually outside the realm of Muggle expertise."

"Hem-hem," Willow coughed in an eerie impression of Dolores Umbridge.

"I beg your pardon, Willow," Dumbledore said. "I should have said 'non-magical expertise.'"

"Yeah, what does that word mean, anyway?" Kennedy asked.

"Quite simply, non-magical."

"Huh. Well, it does sound kinda weird. Like, 'Oh, that is _so_Muggle of you.' Like a little sting that just gets really annoying after a while."

"I shall certainly have to keep this in mind. For all that we think we know about Muggles – I beg your pardon: non-magical persons – I fear that the Wizarding community knows very little. Indeed, I wonder if perhaps our own Muggle Studies classes are indeed up to date or accurate."

"Well, if you're callin' the class 'Muggle Studies,' Big D, then I think you've got it wrong. Sounds like 'Studying the Little People.'" Faith said in a mock-snooty voice.

"What happened to the strapping, silent bodyguard types I had with me a moment ago?"

"They'll be back, Red. We got a show to put on, remember? Can't have the nice Minister think we're unprofessional, now can we?"

Willow flashed a grin at Faith. "No, I guess we can't have that."

A few minutes later, Professor Snape returned with a vial of Veritaserum just long enough to hand it over to Dumbledore and to be dismissed from the Headmaster's office. A short while later, McGonagall came back in with Umbridge in tow. Umbridge herself was flanked by two black-clad SS operatives.

"Dumbledore, what is the meaning of this?" the pink-clad thing demanded.

"Patience, Dolores. Minister Fudge is on his way, and I would not want to start explaining things only to have to explain them all over again."

Umbridge gave a small huff of indignity before finding a corner to stare down from.

Another fifteen minutes passed before Cornelius Fudge walked in flanked by two Aurors. "All right, Dumbledore," the man in the bowler hat said gruffly. "You said this was a matter of importance and security of Ministerial importance. I do hope you aren't wasting my time."

"I sincerely hope that I am not wasting anyone's time as well, Cornelius."

"Before we start whatever it is you have gathered us here for, Dumbledore, who are these?" Umbridge said, gesturing to Faith and Kennedy.

Willow cleared her throat. "After the attack in my classroom, I was afraid that if I didn't take certain measures, I might be targeted again, and I might not get so lucky the next time. So I hired some private security. This is Miss Lehane and Miss Patterson of Cerberus Securities."

"Cerberus, you don't say?" Fudge said with raised eyebrows. "I wasn't aware you were in a position to afford such high quality services, Professor Rosenberg."

Willow arched an eyebrow of her own at that. She knew that Giles and the others had been busy, but if they had a high reputation already, then that meant… "Hey! I don't think you have the right to judge my finances based on any of your stupid preconceptions, mister!"

A hand on Willow's shoulder stopped her from doing anything stupid. "Please don't start anything, ma'am," Kennedy said. Suddenly, the fake professionalism didn't' seem quite so fake.

"Well, at least _someone_here has their wits about them," Fudge said haughtily. "But, Dumbledore…"

"Yes, of course, Minster. Please forgive me. But before we proceed any further, I am going to have to request that your two Safety Service personnel wait outside, as this matter concerns that organization."

"Ah, but Dumbledore," Umbridge said sweetly, "I think you're forgetting that the ultimate authority over the Safety Service belongs to me."

"Dolores, please," Fudge said. "I'm sure that there's nothing that you, myself, Dawlish and Shacklebolt can't handle. And Cerberus has a reputation to uphold. They won't let any harm befall any of us without facing serious repercussions."

"No, sir," Faith said seriously.

Umbridge seemed to consider this for a moment before turning to her black-clad henchmen. "You're dismissed. Return to your prior duties." They silently left the Headmaster's office.

"Good," Dumbledore said. "Now that that is out of the way, Professor Rosenberg, would you care to explain things?"

"Yes, sir. Minister," she said with as much deference as she would allow herself, "like I said, I hired Cerberus to keep an eye on me and my classes covertly in case of another attack. About three weeks after the SS was installed, they informed me that my classroom might have been compromised, but that they weren't entirely certain of the source. It took them a little while, but they got results."

Willow withdrew her wand and waved it at the space above them, where the two Carrows appeared out of thin air and hovered lightly to the ground.

"What is the meaning of this?" Umbridge exclaimed. "Those are agents of the Safety Service, Miss Rosenberg! You are in violation of-"

"I beg your pardon, ma'am," Kennedy said, "but we identified these two as a credible threat to Professor Rosenberg and her students."

"Correct," Faith said, and Willow was astonished by her ability to keep a straight face. "These two individuals are known members of the Safety Service, according to your own admission, Miss Umbridge. We observed them for some time before determining that there was an imminent threat, at which point we disabled them. It was at that point that we were able to determine the true nature of the threat."

Kennedy knelt and rolled back the left sleeve of the brother first, and then the sister. "Both of these Ministry agents wear the Dark Mark," she said seriously. "As their employer, the Ministry is accountable for them."

"How, I must wonder," Faith said, "did the Ministry of Magic come to hire two Death Eaters to watch over Hogwarts students?"

Fudge seemed at a loss for words. "Th-this is preposterous! You! Dumbledore! This is one of your games, isn't it? You're up to something, I know it!"

"The only thing I am 'up to,' Cornelius, is insuring the safety of those who call Hogwarts home. No one has spoken of it openly, but I shall now for the record. Your so-called 'Safety Service' has called students away for unspecified questioning away from any witnesses or legal counsel in such a way that they are too terrified to say anything after their interrogation. I do not know what methods you use, Dolores, but they are clearly having a traumatic effect on the students. With Death Eaters now revealed to be in their midst – regardless of the proof this provides of Lord Voldemort's return – I can only wonder what my students have been subjected to under your watch, Madam Umbridge."

"I do not have to stand for this!" Umbridge cried out. "This means nothing, Dumbledore! I had no idea that those two bore the Mark, but it doesn't matter! They were loyal to the Ministry of Magic, and the Ministry is not fallible!"

"Were they, indeed?" Dumbledore asked. "As it happens, I have a vial of Veritaserum with me, and I was hoping to question these two with you present as witnesses. I assure you that they are properly restrained."

Fudge looked unsure. "Dawlish, Shacklebolt, check those two vagabonds. I want to know they aren't going to try anything."

"Yes, Minister," the two Aurors said as one before moving forward to examine the unconscious brother and sister.

"Well?"

"All clear, Minister," Shacklebolt said.

"Yes, well, all right. Let's get this over with, Dumbledore. I'm sure you're off your rocker, but I want to be here to see the look on your face."

"If I am wrong, Cornelius, and I do hope I am, would you please take a photograph? I rarely get to look at myself in the mirror when I am wrong. I should like to see what it looks like. Miss Patterson, if you would?"

Kennedy nodded and took the vial of potion from Dumbledore and applied three drops into the mouth of either Death Eater after removing their gags.

Dumbledore pointed his wand at them. "_Enervate._"

The ugly duo struggled against their bonds and wheezed. "You!" the brother shouted when he saw Dumbledore.

"Yes, me. Would you two please state your names?"

"Amycus Carrow," the brother said.

"Alecto Carrow," his sister chimed in.

"Well, that's cleared up, at least. Now, would you care to explain your presence inside Willow Rosenberg's classroom? What were your instructions regarding your assignment?"

"We were supposed to keep an eye on the Mudblood and her students," Amycus spat. He clearly realized that he was under the truth serum, as he winced as he spoke. "We were to haul the kids off and threaten their families if they got uppity about the Ministry."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "On whose instructions did you act in this regard?"

"Hers," Alecto said. "Umbridge."

"Is that so?" Dumbledore said. "Did you have any other assigned duties while in Professor Rosenberg's classroom?"

"Yes," the siblings both spat out after trying to hold it in.

"And what duties were those?"

"We were supposed to keep an eye and ear on her. See what she was teaching the kids so that we'd know what we were up against if she ever tried anything against us."

"Which 'we' and 'us' are you referring to, Mister and Miss Carrow?"

They growled and wheezed in response. "The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters."

Fudge gasped and Umbridge coughed.

"I see," Dumbledore said calmly. "Then under Veritaserum, you testify that Dolores Umbridge ordered you to threaten the families of any students who spoke their minds about the Ministry. Furthermore, you testify that you were under orders to report to Lord Voldemort, who is indeed active once again?"

The Carrows winced. "Yeah, you got that right."

"Thank you for your cooperation." With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore put them both to sleep.

"Well," Willow said, turning to look at Umbridge, "did you know, Minister, that students were being threatened with violence to their families? The SS is a Ministry organization after all."

"I… Well… That is to say… Of course, I had no idea!"

"You don't sound awfully sure about that," Willow said in a low voice. "And not to mention that we've just heard a very convincing confession proving that you've been smearing the good names of Headmaster Dumbledore and Harry Potter without reason. You've been denying the truth, Minister, and you've given Voldemort an open invitation, practically, to rebuild his forces without fear of Ministry intervention."

"You… You can't hold me to something like that! How was I supposed to know that there were lunatics like this out there? Surely, he can't be back! They must be deluded, just like Crouch!"

"You mean Bartemius Crouch Jr.," Dumbledore said. "The man we captured last year, bearing the Dark Mark, who you subjected to the Dementor's Kiss before he could give testimony?"

"Yes, yes! That Crouch! What's your point, Dumbledore?"

"Only that it seems quite impractical for three separate individuals to share in the exact same delusion, Cornelius."

"Well, I'm afraid it doesn't really matter, now does it, Dumbledore?" Fudge said angrily. "This is a matter of Ministry security, and as such nothing said here is to be repeated under penalty of the Dementor's Kiss! Knowledge of these things cannot be allowed to spread. If the people had any idea of what might possibly be out there – which isn't to say that there _is_anything out there – why, they'd go mad, Dumbledore! What do you think people would do if they could hear what we're talking about right now?"

"Hmm," Dumbledore put his hands together calmly. "So, Minister, you admit that you have been concealing the truth from the public willfully and in full realization of your actions?"

"Well, isn't that what I just said, Dumbledore? Honestly, it's for their own good."

"And you have been acting under Minister Fudge's orders to keep Hogwarts a bastion of supposed Ministry support."

"That is correct, Dumbledore!" Umbridge said with a triumphant smirk. "I'm so glad you understand things clearly now. And there is nothing whatsoever that you can do about it.

"You fiends!" McGonagall shrieked. "You can't possibly expect to get away with this treachery! I will not allow it!"

"You will allow only what _we_allow, Minerva, my dear," Umbridge said sweetly.

"I see," Dumbledore said. "Willow, I believe that enough time has passed to confirm our suspicions."

"I agree, Headmaster," she said with a thin smile. "Time to storm the castle."

"And what do you think you're playing at, my dear?" Fudge sneered at her.

"Who, me? Oh, that was just a small signal, that's all."

"Signal?" Umbridge asked with sickly sweet venom. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Well," Willow said, unable to keep a smile off her face, "let me show you."

Stepping forward as Faith and Kennedy stepped to either side, Willow revealed a large purple horn that had been concealed behind her and her bodyguards.

Fudge paled. "Th-that's…"

"Yup! A Wizarding Wireless Network transmitter. This whole conversation has been airing live for all of your good, nice, law-abiding citizens to hear. Strange how people who live by the law tend not to like it when their leaders don't do the same."

The door to the Headmaster's office burst open to reveal an SS agent. "Madam Umbridge! An army of women – no, girls! – is storming Hogwarts! Their targeting us!"

"You mean that they're targeting the SS. The so-called 'Safety Service,'" Faith said, breaking character for the first time since the Minister had arrived. "We had a signal agreed upon in case we had proof that the SS really stood for 'snake shit.' So, yeah. We're taking your boys and girls out. Because threatening kids' families? That's pretty low. I don't think Cerberus does business with people like you, do we?"

"No, I don't think we do," Kennedy agreed. "It's a good thing we take our contracts to protect our charges so seriously. I hope you're satisfied with our services, Professor Rosenberg?"

"Very satisfied," Willow said with a smirk. "Oh, before I forget, _Stupefy!_" The SS agent went down without a word.

"Well, now," Dumbledore said cheerfully, rising to his feet. "I believe our business here is concluded. Minister, you are free to leave the premises. Madam Umbridge, however, will have to be confined here. I'm sure that you will have a great deal of business to attend to in short order, Cornelius."

Umbridge's face had turned an ugly shade of puce. "You! You will NOT interfere with- Umph!"

Faith's fist had just made contact with Umbridge's gut, sending the older woman to her knees. "Wow, that felt good."

"I suggest you leave, Minister," Kennedy said viciously. "Get out while you still can."

Not needing to be told twice, Fudge turned on his heel and fled the office with his two Aurors in tow.

"Will your people allow him to leave?" Dumbledore asked.

"Probably," Faith said. "They're only supposed to go after the guys in SS uniforms."

"Well, as exciting as this has been, I have to prepare the school for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. I'm sure you have lessons to plan, Willow."

"Uh, yeah. Sure, Headmaster. Have a good day, okay?"

"And you as well, Willow."

* * *

><p>Harry sat in the common room, eyes wide as the broadcast from Dumbledore's office went silent.<p>

"Wow!" Ron said. "Do you think they broadcast that over the entire school?"

"Over the entire world, Ron!" Hermione said with unrestrained glee. "Oh, this is perfect! Harry, you've been vindicated! Everyone knows the truth now, _and_the Ministry ought to be out of here in no time!"

"But wait!" Fred said.

"There's more!" George added.

"The Cerberus army that's taking the SS apart-"

"-is using certain materiel that George and I-"

"-have been manufacturing on behalf of-"

"-Professor Rosenberg, who seems to be a part of-"

"Cerberus Securities!"

"And their chief of operations-"

"-one Rupert Giles, he calls himself-"

"-has offered us-"

"An exclusive contract!"

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "How did that happen?"

"Well, y'see, we had this idea. Shield Hats: wear one, challenge your buddy to a duel, and watch their spell bounce off harmlessly."

"Worthless against really deadly stuff, but great against most common spells."

"Rosenberg loved the idea, but she asked us to make tunics and pants instead. Paid us well for them."

"And now, we see the fruits of our labor in action."

"Wow!" Ron said again. "Mum'll probably let you open that shop after all, after all this."

"Don't jinx it, Ron!"

"This is all great," Harry said. "But there's one big thing that I think we're all forgetting."

"What're you on about, Harry?"

"Well, now that he's exposed, Voldemort won't be working in the shadows so much anymore. He'll be killing out in the open pretty soon."

The common room fell silent.

"This isn't over," Harry said. "It's only just begun."


	15. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

* * *

><p><em>HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS<em>

_MINISTRY CONSPIRACY UNVEILED_

_In an unannounced worldwide broadcast yesterday over the Wizarding Wireless Network, the recently installed Safety Service at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was revealed to have been threatening students and their families to ensure compliance with the Ministry of Magic, which was directing the Safety Service (SS) through the person of Dolores Jane Umbridge, who is one of Minister Fudge's top advisors._

_At least two of the SS operatives who were subdued were revealed to be Death Eaters. Amycus and Alecto Carrow both bore the Dark Mark and confessed under Veritaserum that they had infiltrated the Ministry and were working to keep secret the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named last June. The dark wizard's return was previously revealed by Harry Potter, and the claim was substantiated by Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. The Ministry has been actively seeking to discredit both individuals since their initial testimony last summer._

_It is unclear how long Minister Fudge will remain in power, but a number of Ministry employees have already signed a petition to show that they no longer recognize his authority. Elections for a new Minister of Magic will likely be held in the coming months. The Auror Department has begun an internal investigation into the Ministry of Magic to root out any possible infiltrators in the service of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

_After the upheaval at the Ministry, Hogwarts Defense Professor Willow Rosenberg has been hailed as a heretofore unsung hero in unveiling the illegal activities of the Ministry. Rosenberg, a native of the now-gone town of Sunnydale in the United States, caused a great deal of controversy when she first arrived. A Muggle-born witch who immediately used her lessons to attempt to reveal the Ministy's deception, Rosenberg is a rare individual who is capable of casting spells without a wand. It was a staged attempt on Rosenberg's life by Hogwarts Governor Ross Moore – coordinated and planned by Dolores Umbridge – that was used as an excuse to create the SS to enforce the Ministry's will at Hogwarts. The presence of Death Eaters among the SS was uncovered by two private security guards hired by Professor Rosenberg after the attempt on her life._

_With the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named now public knowledge, The Daily Prophet considers it to be our duty to provide you with knowledge on how to defend yourself. For basic home protection spells, see page 7. For a list of known Death Eaters, see page 9. For identifying people under the influence of the Imperius Curse or impersonated with Polyjuice Potion…_

"It goes on like that for a little while longer, but I think you understand the situation you now find yourself in."

Lord Voldemort silently fumed at having such carefully-laid plans undone by such blunt and unyielding tactics with little to no subtlety whatsoever. Dumbledore might be a master schemer, but this new player – Rosenberg – was something else entirely.

"It seems to me, Lord Voldemort, that relying merely on pureblooded wizards and witches from your world to aid in your campaign may no longer be viable. Even if you do take on half-bloods from time to time, it won't be enough now that people are openly aware of and looking for you. And you and I know that it isn't just wizards that will be on the watch. You've also drawn the attention of a group that's been known to cause trouble in certain circles of Hell."

The Dark Lord sneered. "You mean to say that 'Cerberus Securities' is an army of Vampire Slayers? You know that there can only be one."

"We're not talking about a Highlander, Your Lordship," the voice mocked him. "Powerful magic was wrought to create an army of them, and they are a rather large thorn in the side, if you must know. You'd be wise not to underestimate them. Even you have your limits."

Voldemort didn't like what this person was telling him, but he wasn't entirely sure that he was in his own element. "You offer me power, yes? And subjects?"

"You'll get whatever you need to take over your little corner of the world, so long as you take care of the Slayers along the way. Left unchecked, they could become irksome."

The power here was too great to ignore, and far too tempting. Even if he did have his horcruxes to protect him, he could still be made incorporeal again and be forced to rely on incompetents to revive him. This new offer was too good to pass up.

"Your proposal is acceptable," Voldemort conceded bitterly. "If we are to work together, what am I to call you?"

"Well, you're the Dark Lord, and I'm going to provide you with followers with power you couldn't ever dream of. Let's say I'm one of them. If that's the case…"

The voice moved out of the shadows and revealed itself to belong to a young woman. She was short, with flowing blonde hair and brilliant green eyes. Her smile was at once pure and utterly sinister.

"…then why don't you call me the First."

* * *

><p>That's it for this installment. I fear I may have made Willow a bit Mary-Sue-ish, so I plan to start a sequel story to continue the tale while allowing me to redo how I write these characters.<p>

Many Thanks to all of you for reading and supporting this story. The tale continues in 'Will You Join Us?' To read it, add the following to the end of (www-fanfiction-net) after replacing the hyphens with periods and then removing the parentheses...

/s/8213929/1/Will_You_Join_Us

The Story Continues...


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